The Miracle of Three
by Estel Baggins
Summary: COMPLETE! Sequel to Telling Tales. Hotsreak aka Fiyero writes his second book. As before, it is composed of gleanings from others’ writing as well as his own.
1. You Deserve to Know

Title: The Miracle of Three

Author: Estel Baggins

Pairings: Virgil/Richie, Richie/Ebon, Virgil/Hotstreak, Virgil/Richie/Hotstreak

**Rating: very high R- you have been warned!**

Warning 1: The Miracle of Three is the sequel to Telling Tales- you need to read the first one, or this won't make any sense!

Warning 2: SLASH, rape (not explicit, I don't think, but don't hold me to that!)

Warning 3: talk of Christianity- Richie's foster family (I almost can't believe I have to warn about something like that, but I'm well aware that I might get loud complaints if I don't at least issue the warning)

Summary: Hotstreak (aka Fiyero) writes his second book. As before, it is composed of gleanings from others' writing as well as his own.

**Dedication: This is for "soon to be world renowned Gracie" who confessed that she wasn't sure who Fiyero was. I understand that- sometimes I forget that I haven't explained things. Hence the-reposting.**

Prologue

You Deserve to Know…

Prologue: You Deserve to Know…

Talon's jaw dropped and her wings ruffled, showing her shock. "Gear is… Richie Foley? That little nerd Ebon grabbed once?"

Hotstreak was laughing so hard he could barely speak. He was sitting on a crate, doubled over and shaking with a case of uncontrollable giggles. _Grown men don't giggle, _he thought, but then a snort escaped his weak control and Hotstreak amended, _At least they don't do it in public. _He gasped and tried to get his breath back. It wasn't just Talon's reaction that set him off; he had been put into hysterics by the thought of Static trying to kiss Gear through that face-plate. _Now I know Virgil doesn't necessarily have to be Static, and there's no way Ebon would believe it anyway, after he was proved differently. But he saw Static in front of him and Virgil on a T.V. screen. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Foley messed with the monitors somehow._ He gulped air into his lungs as he tried to calm down. _He's Static sure as I'm a pyro. And just thinking o those two together- _He snorted again, then clapped his hands over his mouth. _All right, Francis, this is getting to be too much. Get a hold of yourself. _But an image of Static and Gear trying to make love while the little robot, Backpack, beeped angrily at them set him off again.

At last, Hotstreak managed to regain hi sobriety, though an insane snicker still escaped his lips from time to time. During his whole laughing-fit Talon had waited patiently.

Hotstreak closed his eyes and sighed. "Yup. He has much as confessed it, and the little robot clinched it. He's Gear."

"Then who's Static?"

Hotstreak decided he wasn't quite ready to share that bit of information- it was still speculation, after all, and though Talon might believe him it had become Hotstreak's custom to hide crucial facts so he wouldn't be blindsided by his trust. "I'm not sure. I made a deal with Foley: he told me who he was dating- Virgil- and I agreed not to tell the world he was Gear." He smiled. 'But you were the one who pegged him, so you deserve to know that you were right. As for Ebon…"

"How do you know Richie won't turn right around and tell every meta-human in Dakota that you're soft, that you let him go?"

Hotstreak grinned. "Because if he does, I'll make sure Ebon knows who he is. And knowing Ebon's tastses, Richie wouldn't have much time for spreading rumors. Ebon would catch him and take him to a place where not even Static can find him."

Talon made a face. "Ebon lusts the kid, doesn't he?"

Hotstreak laughed and he stood up and stretched. "Yeah, he does. The only person he lusts after more is Gear… and once he found out they were one and the same…"

"So you're counting on Richie to be afraid of Ebon? Won't he at least tell Static what you did?"

"He might, but I guess that's fair, since I told you about him." Hotstreak shrugged. "I'm not worried about anything Static might know about me. I know who is partner is, and that's a powerful tool." He turned a musing gaze on Talon. "Remember how I said that Gear is Static's weakness, and that Static can't really be reached any other way? Well, if I let slip who Gear really is, Ebon would have an excellent way to capture Static… and enjoy himself at the same time."

Talon turned her head away.

"Why does that bother you so much?" Hotstreak demanded, suddenly reaching out and seizing her by the shoulders.

Talon writhed out of his grip and jumped back, putting space between them. "Why doesn't it bother you? You're talking about Ebon raping this kid like it's no big deal and-"

"It is not a big deal," Hotstreak answered. "If Foley's stupid enough to reveal his identity to me, why shouldn't I take advantage of it?"

"But… but five minutes ago you weren't going to tell Ebon!"

"And maybe I still won't," Hotstreak answered. "But now I have a weapon that I didn't have before. Ebon would be so grateful to at last know who Gear is, and he'd be ecstatic to find out that Richie Foley and Gear- the people he dreams about when he's alone in his bed at night- are one and the same." He sat back down. "Even if I don't ever use it, the weapon's still there."

"Why do you need any more weapons when everybody's already afraid of you?"

Hotstreak blinked at her, shocked at how innocent she truly was, despite everything she'd gone through. "Ebon's not afraid of me. Unless I have poer over everybody, I can be taken out."

"But why do you care about Ebon? You don't want to be the boss of the Meta-breed, so why do you care?"

"Because he can hurt me!" Hotstreak yelled, standing and shooting twin fireballs at the ceiling. "He can make me come to his stupid meetings, and he can tell me what to do, if only a little. Do you think I want to just turn away from Ebon and have to fight him and his crew just to win the right to make my own decisions? You were there when he offered Static a place in the Meta-breed and Static refused to join. Now, I've only heard about that from stories, but I'll bet Ebon was ticked off. Right?"

"Yeah…" She watched him, ready to run if he decided to give up the little bit of control he had over his anger.

"I don't want to have to fight Ebon to get freedom, and I don't want to have to run to Static for protection, or have to join the good side. If it makes you feel better, think of my secret as a protection instead of a weapon. I won't use it unless I have to."

She kenw she was treading on dangerous ground, but her curiosity got the better of her. _Damn my curiosity. That's what got me into this situation in the first place. I may as well be hung for a whole tortilla instead just for a crumb. _"If Ebon raping the kid doesn't bother you, why aren't you just running to Ebon right now wit the enws? He's love you for it and you'd probably find yourself his secondin-command."

Hotstreak scowled. "I'm no one's helper. I don't owe Ebon anything, certainly not the key to his enemies. And if I told Ebon now, I wouldn't have the protection anymore." He shrugged. "And who knows? Maybe Ebon's plan to attack Static and Gear will work, and none of this will matter."

"You don't believe that," she said.

"Nope." He grinned. "But I can dream, can't I?"

"You're loco," she muttered.

"Yeah, well, it's gotten me through, hasn't it? I don't need to be sane to get what I want."

Talon caught Hotstreak's eye. "What do you want, Francis?"

If she'd hoped saying his name would help him open up to her, she was sorely disappointed. Hotstreak grimaced at her, stood and strode from the room without a look back. Sighing, Talon headed in the other direction.

_Well, I have my answer about Richie. But I think I've caused more than a handful of problems for the kid by having to know._ She wondered briefly if she should take the news to Ebon, but decided that, like Hotstreak, she didn't owe the shadow-man anything.

oOo

Batman faced the long conference-room table, the stars behind him outlining his tense frame. "Now you know what I have seen or sensed. What I would ask of you is this: help me do the right thing by Virgil and Richie. They have helped to save Earth, and now they need our help."

The Bat's eyes went to each face. Superman's brow was creased. Wonder Woman was frowning deeply. Green Lantern looked absolutely fierce. Flash was shockingly still, and his eyes were closed. Hawkgirl stared at something only she could see, and J'onn seemed to be studying the tabletop.

"You are alarmed, but with little in the way of facts to support your fears," J'onn said, raising his head and meeting Batman's gaze.

"I feel as if I'm being stalked, but when I look around, no one is there."

"Maybe you just need rest-" Superman began.

"And maybe you need to talk to Richie," Wonder Woman put in, laying her hand on Superman's shoulder. "Not now, of course, since you have decided to wait until Richie has settled somewhere and currently he is in the hospital…"

"Should I talk to Virgil?"

"Not yet," she said at once. "Richie is the only one who knows what is going on inside his head."

"What about his robot?" Green Lantern asked. "He has a very strong connection to Richie; he might know what is wrong."

"I don't trust Backpack," Batman answered.

"Do you think Brainiac-" Hawkgirl began.

"No. Brainiac is gone from Richie's computer. Of that much we are sure. I think Backpack could be a danger on his own. I don't want to consult him."

"But won't he hear everything you tell Richie?" Flash asked. He had started to move his hands as if he were shuffling an invisible deck of cards. "I mean, if they're connected and all-"

"Their connection is only short-range. If I can find a way to ge Richie away from Backpack for a few hours, talk to him, learn what it is Richie has to tell me…" Batman turned his back on the other members of the Justice League. He studied the stars and thought of the frightened look on Richie's face when the blond teen had first awoken..

"But then you're faced with the same problem of Backpack getting his answers from Richie when Richie comes back," Wonder Woman said.

"Exactly."

"So what are you going to do?" Flash wanted to know.

"All I can do is sit and wait." Batman's hands fisted at his sides.

"That's the answer sometimes, but not now," Wonder Woman said. "You need to talk to Richie before anything happens to him. But since you can't talk to him until he's alone, track his movements for now. Find out who he's being sent to live with. I'm sure it won't be Virgil, and it probably won't be in Dakota." She stood and walked to Batman's side. She touched his shoulder much as she had touched Superman's. She was one of the few that could actually touch the Bat without worrying about being tossed across the room. "If you can get Richie alone, and if you learn that Backpack is a danger, then we will be there to take care of the robot while you help Richie."

Batman glanced down at her, and the ghost of a smile pulled at his lips. "Thank you. I did the right thing by coming to you."

She smiled, but didn't answer. It was enough for Batman to have expressed his gratitude; he didn't need to stand there and listen to altruistic platitudes.

oOo

Ebon lay very still. Around him, the city hummed with life and lust and power. But here, in his room, he was protected from all peeping eyes. He had built his room to protect him from the outside world. It had no doors, no windows, no way for anyone without his special powers to get in. Only a vent allowed air into the room. He had taken special care to select a spot away from all prying eyes, but one to which fresh air could be channeled with a minimum of effort.

And of course, there was nothing of metal in the room. Even the vent was plastic, though perhaps the pipes beyond were metal. It mattered not. There was no visible metal. _If Static ever made it here by some impossible chance, it wouldn't occur to him to use his powers because he wouldn't see anything of use here._

He frowned and sat up, suddenly hard and craving release. _But what about Gear? What could he do in this room? Could he find a means of escape?_ Ebon stood and began to pace, hoping to distract himself from the sudden urge to close his eyes and dream about Static's partner. _Dreaming won't bring him here… Only my plan will do that._

_But Gear hasn't been seen. How can you be sure he'll show up when the time is right?_

_He has to. He wouldn't just let me kill Static without trying to stop me. He has to show up._

_Unless he's gone. Unless his parents moved or something. He's a teenager; it could have happened._

_But wouldn't I have seen a change in Static? He hasn't changed, except to go on patrol alone. Wouldn't he be missing his partner?_

_And why exactly would Static show his distress to you or to anyone else? He has to have more control than that. If he didn't, he would have blurted his secret identity to the world a long time ago._

Ebon groaned and sank onto his bed again. His head was spinning from all the frustrating, circling thoughts. "I don't' know enough to figure anything out!"he roared up at the unsympathetic ceiling. "I don't know how to make Gear mine, or even how to find him!"

_What about Foley?_

Ebon groaned and rubbed absently at his throbbing erection. Foley had felt so good pressed against him the one time he'd managed to kidnap the teen. _If Shiv hadn't been with me, waiting for Static to show up, I would have taken him right then. But I kept telling myself I would kill Static then no one would interrupt us. I hate being interrupted._

He turned his mind to the second- and last- time he had touched Foley. It had been just after Kangor, Talon and Shiv had broken into the high-security police station. _Static confronted us, and we split. Not that I'm afraid of him, _he rushed on, soothing his injured pride,_ but I'd just been released from those anti-metahuman chains and wasn't feeling up to fighting. So I told the others_

Flashback

"Everybody split up," Ebon ordered as they ran from Static and from the cops. "Meet me back at the place." Which meant, of course, meet back at the old juvenile hall. No one would look for a bunch of metahumans there. For one thing, it was in a semi-residential neighborhood. For another, it wasn't very run-down, just closed.

Ebon turned down an alleyway, thinking to melt into the shadows. He was looking back over his shoulder, making sure that Static wasn't following him, when he heard a strange buzzing sound, like a small motor. He snapped his head around looking for the source, thinking it might be a cop on a mo-ped. Instead, he saw a blond teen on a scooter, his red helmet all but hiding the gorgeous blond locks.

They collided, Ebon half absorbing the scooter into himself and the teen falling backwards. He it the ground hard, and Ebon, in his fury, hoped the idiot was badly hurt. Then he threw the scooter and got a better look at the teen as the other struggled to his feet.

The teen looked nervous and apologetic. "Completely, utterly and totally my bad," he said, flashing a anxious smile that melted Ebon's heart and made other places ache.

Ebon circled the teen, studying him. Why did the guy look so…? Wait a minute… it couldn't be… he hadn't sent the guy in almost two years. _But he haunts my dreams, _Ebon thought, and as soon as he made the connection, he had to know if he was right. "I know you," he said, advancing.

The teen backed away a few steps, still with that half-frightened smile on his face. "Yeah, I get that a lot. One of those faces." His laugh was as frightened as his smile.

Ebon's need doubled and he reached for the gorgeous teen.

"Heh." The kid turned and began to run, loosing a panicked cry that was little more than a squeak.

_Whore, you are mine,_ Ebon thought. He slipped into the pavement and easily caught up with the teen. He popped up just in front of his victim. Leaning forward, he raised an intimidating finger. _I don't want this kid to know I've had dreams about him. That would give him entirely too much information about me. _"You're that kid I saw talking with Static that time."

"Um, yeah… " The teen brought his hand up to his jaw, trying to carry off a contemplative posture.

It only highlighted how graceful and delicate his hands were, and how beautiful his neck was.

The blonde said, unaware of Ebon's thoughts, "He was asking directions to the power plant." He tried the dissimulating smile again, shrugging and attempting to look completely innocent.

"Don't play me," Ebon snapped, and he was excited to see the smile fall off the kid's face as if he'd slapped it away. Now he could see the fear his victim was trying to hide. _Will he try to talk his way out of sex with me, too? _Ebon hoped so. _I'll enjoy teaching him that there are other ways to use that talented mouth of his. _"Com'ere." Ebon lifted the kid with one hand.

"Hey! No, don't! Lemme-"

Ebon hid his smile. One talent of his was to be able to make himself larger, if only to a certain point. He enlarged the hand holding his little, wriggling fish and cut the kid off mid-plea. _He'll beg me not to hurt him when we're in bed, too._

Wrapping himself around the teen- _Foley, my new whore's name is Richie Foley_- he pressed that hard part of himself against his victim's leg. "You're coming with me." He grinned, thinking, _His eyes are so beautiful when he's afraid. I could almost lose myself in-_

A bolt of energy hit him hard enough to drive all such thoughts from his mind. He would know that power-draining shock anywhere: Static. _Why does he always have to follow me? Kangor, Talon and Shiv are slower! Why did he have to follow _me

All the while, the burning charge seared him, stealing his strength. Ebon screamed, more in frustration than pain. _Damn you, fly boy! Why can't you stay out of my way for once?_

"Let him go, Ebon."

As Static flew closer, the beam of electricity he was using became more focused, more draining. Ebon's power was bleeding out until he could barely keep his shape. _If I don't let him go, Static'll have me for sure. I ain't going back to that anti Bang-Baby coat. _He dropped his victim, hearing the kid gasp for air as he was released. _Yeah, and if I'd had you longer I would have held you like that til you passed out. You would have woken up to the feeling of me inside you._

Ebon dove for the manhole, knowing he could escape easily. "Another time, fly boy. Guaranteed." He longed to promise the same to the little whore, but he knew better than to clue Static into what he really wanted.

End Flashback

_That's the one difference between me and the other crooks in this city; I talk the talk and walk the walk, and I understand that sometimes the best way to "talk" so that nobody knows your plans but you is to be quiet._

Feeling calmer, Ebon resumed his prone position on the bed. _I need a way to find Foley, but I need to dispose of Static first. Let me do that, then I'll worry about him. As for Gear… Well, if I can't have first prize, I'll settle for second. And maybe once I kill Static Gear will come for revenge and I'll have both whores all to myself._

He looked around his room. _I'll have to make sure there's no way Gear can escape from here. I made it Static-proof, but I never thought about him before. I'll do some thinking on that. It isn't as if we're attacking Static tomorrow. It's still too soon. I want to catch him completely unprepared. The longer we wait, the more unsuspecting he'll be._

oOo

The morning prayers finished and Richie suppressed a groan. _I've gone from one highly-structured house to another, _he thought. Why did Mr. and Mrs. Edmann, the people he'd been sent to live with, have to be uber-religious? Why couldn't he have been sent with someone who knew a little bit about the real world?

Ms. Katheryn clapped her hands, drawing everyone's attention. Everyone except Richie, who was doodling in his notebook and listening with only half an ear. "Class, you have thirty minutes to write a prayer in the style of the Old Testament. Make sure to check your spelling and your diction. It is not enough to fill your prayer with "these" and "thous". You will have to use the same language, word order and emphasis as those in the Old Testament."

"Can we use the Psalms as a model?" asked a black-haired girl who reminded Richie of Daisy.

_Why are there always brain-washed ones?_ Richie thought sourly. He realized he had been doodling a picture of Static and Gear and scratched it out immediately.

"Of course, Miranda. That's an excellent idea. You have thirty minutes. Go."

Richie flipped to a new piece of paper, opened his Bible (a "present" from Mr. and Mrs. Edmann) and jotted down a short psalm straight out of his head. He was modeling it after one in the book before him, but not copying it.

O Lord, who made the heavens and the Earth

Hear my prayer, sinner though I am.

Lord of Hosts, powerful Protector,

Though my enemies surround me on every side

Do not abandon me to their wickedness.

Instead lead me past them, through the middle of them,

And to Your House. Amen.

Richie considered it, decided it would get him at least a B, and set out to write another sort of prayer on that first sheet where he had been doodling.

God, why did you have to stick me here?

These people aren't going to lead me to You- they'll push me away.

And I can't stand the fact that I'm separated from V.

I know You probably don't want me with V, but I don't care;

I love him,

and he's one of the only people in this world who truly loves me.

Please don't keep me away from him.

And please, if You are so very powerful,

kill my father and punish him in Hell for all eternity.

I know I'll probably be sent to Hell because of that thought,

but I can't lie to You.

Now You know what I really think.

Richie scratched out that last bit, though it was still legible, and wrote:

Actually, You already know what I think.

It's not like I don't believe in you, God; I do.

I always have.

And don't even ask me why, because I shouldn't.

I'm too intelligent to believe in something I can neither see nor hear.

Granted, I've never seen a waterrat, either, but that's different.

I read it in a book.

Okay, fine, the Bible's a book, too.

So we're established that I believe in You, and that I have respect for You

(I capitalized You, didn't I?)

but I can't be happy and sure You'll fix everything anymore, if I ever was.

So here's my final prayer;

I'll try not to bother You anymore with my sinful thoughts.

Dear God, Savior of the World, Holy Spirit,

please let me get back to V soon,

and don't let my father keep us apart. Thank you.

Amen.

Richie spent the rest of the half hour writing a letter to Virgil.

"All right, everyone. Pass in your papers."

Without looking, Richie grabbed the nearest prayer off his desk and gave it to the person in front of him. Still without looking, Richie tucked his other prayer into his folder. Then he went back to his letter.

After lunch (why, when everything else was different, did the cafeteria food have to taste just as bad as it had at home?) Richie shuffled his way back to his class. At Dakota Union, he had always switched from class to class throughout the day, and didn't see his homeroom teacher until the next morning. Here, though, he returned to her classroom after lunch, after gym and at the end of the day.

The minute he walked in the door, Ms. Kathelyn handed him a pass. "Pastor Mitchell wants to see you, Richie. Go back out to the main hall, turn right, and knock on the second door on your left.

"Ma'am, did I do something-"

"You're not in trouble, Richie. Pastor Mitchell just wants to talk to you." She smiled at him and made little shooing motions.

Richie walked out, his heart sinking. _What did I do?_

When he was at the door marked Reverend Mitchell, he knocked. _This sort of reminds me of when I went to the principal's office to be interrogated about my dad._

"Come in please."

Richie entered, determined not to let this man get to him as the other. _I've caused enough problems with my mouth; I don't want anyone getting the idea that I need help. All I want is to be left alone until I see V. Virg can help me, even if no one else can. _He offered the man sitting behind the large desk a polite smile and held out his pass.

The man stood, came around the desk and, after taking the pass, shook Richie's hand. "Richie Foley, right? I'm Reverend Mitchell. Would you like to sit down?"

_No, but I will anyway._ "Thank you." Richie sank into the offered seat and watched in mild surprise as the pastor sat on the same side of the desk in a chair nearby. The chair wasn't too close, but the two of them weren't separated by the desk, either. _He wants me to feel that we're equal, that I can trust him._ In his mind, Gear smiled sardonically, but the thought was wholly Richie's: _What kind of a fool does he take me for?_

The pastor smiled at him. "Well, Richie, do you know why I asked to see you?"

"No, sir."

The reverend sat back in his chair and folded his hands. "I read your prayer. Ms. Katheryn was struck by its honesty and asked me to look at it."

_Hoensty?_ "Sir, I don't know what you're talking about. I just wrote that prayer for an assignment in homeroom."

The reverend smiled again. "Well, it seems to me you managed to forget the form the assignment was to take and instead wrote a true prayer, one from your heart."

Richie blanched. _No… No, I gave her the right prayer. Didn't I?_ Alarmed, he realized he couldn't be sure of that. "I'm sorry. I just handed the wrong prayer in." Richie grabbed at his bag and opened it. "The real prayer's in here. I'll just take the other one back. Ms. Ktheryn can grade that one instead."

"Richie, stop, please."

Richie sat up, leaving the bag open at his feet. The concern in the man's voice made him feel sick and angry. "I don't need your help. I'll only be here for a few weeks, then I'll be going h…somewhere else." He'd almost said "home", but he'd been thinking of Virgil's house, only one of two places where Richie had always felt safe.

"Richie, when someone calls out for help like this, how can I turn aside? How can I ignore them?"

"Easy." Richie was doing up the snaps on his bag, preparing to run. "I sent that prayer to God, not to you. It doesn't say "Dear Reverend Mitchell," does it?"

"Sometimes God answers our prayers by putting people in our path that can help us."

"Eat shit." It was out before Richie could stop himself. He froze, expecting either an explosion or a strained, placating smile.

The reverend threw his head back and laughed.

Richie gaped at him, all thoughts of escape temporarily forgotten.

Reverend Mitchell was gasping for air as he looked back at Richie. He wiped at his eyes and chuckled to himself. "I haven't heard that in so long…" he gasped out. "I thought that was something that died in the sixties." He released a snort of laughter, then seemed to get control of himself. "Forgive me, Richie, but I haven't had a good laugh like that in days." He shook his head. "I'm so used to people being unsure around me, not saying what's really on their minds. I miss that honesty."

He sat forward. "If you give me twenty minutes of your time, I promise I won't bother you again unless you want me to. Deal?"

Richie shook his head. "No. That's not good enough."

Reverend Mitchell considered for a moment. "And I'll make sure the teachers don't bother you about your life before you moved in with the Edmanns. Does that sound better?"

Richie considered, then nodded. "All right. But your twenty minutes starts-" he glanced at the clock- "now."

Reverend Mitchell stood. "Would you feel more comfortable fi I was over there?" He gestured to the other side of the desk.

_Yeah, but…_ "It's okay; I'm not afraid of you or anything."

"Fair enough. And since I'm calling you by your first name, would you mind calling me Ovid?"

Richie started violently.

"Which word is a swear word today?"

Richie bit his lip. "It's just… your name is the middle name of my bo- best friend."

"Do you mean V?"

Richie blushed. "His name is Virgil. And, yeah, I mean him."

"Do you love Virgil?

Richie's blush deepened and he looked away. "I don't have to answer anything you ask me."

"True, but keep in mind that what you say here stays here."

Richie's anger flared and he whipped his head around, glaring at the pastor. "IfI say yes, you'll tell me I'm going to Hell and scourge me out of your office and maybe out fo the school."

"Actually, I wouldn't do that. First, I would thank you for being honest with me. Next, I would say that we don't scourge people out just for being honest. Next I would say that I would rather have you talking to me, or, more preferably, to God than having to face the world alone."

Richie's jaw dropped for the second time since the meeting began. "But… But homosexuality is a sin!"

"That is for you and God to talk about. I'm not here to tell you about fire and brimstone; I'm here to tell you about the mercy of Jesus' love." He dug a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Can I erad you something?"

Stunned and confused, Richie only nodded.

Ovid declaimed: "Alleluia. Christ has risen, as he said. He has risen from the dead. Alleluia. Give thanks to the Lrod, for he is good; his love endures forever. I was pushed back and about to fall, but the Lrod helped me. I will give you thanks, for you answered me, you have become my salvation. The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone. Alleluia. Christ has risen, as he said. He has risen from the dead. Alleluia." He paused, then added, "God can be your salvation, Richie, not just from the physical world, but from the world of your mind."

Richie stared at him. "I'm already a Christian, you know."

"Yes, I know. Let me show you what being a Chrstian means."

Ten minutes later, Richie left the office, undecided but with more weapons at his disposal than he'd had before he entered the office. _All right, God; I'm listening. Whatever You want me to do, You'll have to lead me. But I will still love V._

After a moment, he added, _But if You can really take away my nightmares, I would be forever grateful._

oOo

"Richie, you have a package from Dakota," Mrs. Edmann announced when Richie set his backpack- _not Backpack, _he thought, his breath catching in his throat,_ just a bag_- beside the stairs. "It's on the kitchen table. The police scanned it already and declared it safe."

"Thank you, ma'am." Richie smiled, trying to act happy and carefree and everything he wasn't. Two days ago, he had received some of his clothes that had been taken by the police and mailed to him. Oh, he'd been excited at first when his temporary guardians had announced that he'd received a package from Dakota, but when he saw that all that was in the box were clothes, not one keepsake or photograph, he'd nearly cried. He hadn't; he didn't want them to know how hard he was finding the adjustment. And he sure as hell didn't want them comforting him. They were strangers, even if they had been placed in charge of him.

He shuffled into the kitchen, smiled at his "sister", Amber, and turned the box so he could read the return address, fully expecting it to say "Sergeant Riley, Dakota Police Department" and to have the police stamp of approval that showed the box had been checked for bombs or Anthrax or who-cared-what-else.

Well, he did see the stamp, but it was across a return address that made his heart leap. "V," he whispered, touching the address, hardly believing.

Mrs. Edmann asked from behind him, "Is that from a friend of yours, Richie?"

"Yeah…" Richie turned a beaming, completely untroubled smile on her. "My best friend." He was about to tear into the box, but then thought, _It might contain Gear stuff. Probably not, but anything's possible. _"Is it all right if I open it upstairs?"

She nodded. "Of course. Just be down at five-thirty for dinner."

"Okay." Richie tucked the box under his arm and with all the restraint he could muster, walked from the kitchen. He scooped up his bag and bounded up the stairs. Alone in his room with the door closed, Richie tore the package open. He couldn't lock his door, but he didn't care at the moment that he wasn't allowed any locks- plice orders. They said there was a high risk of suicide in children like Richie.

He tore the brown paper off the box and stared at it for a moment. The words "FH Survival Kit" were written across the top, and at first Richie couldn't figure out what they meant. Then he grinned, muttered, "Foster home. It's gotta mean that," and opened the box.

The first thing he saw was the comic books, and his eyes widened in shock. Where had Virgil gotten the money for all these? He pulled out the stack and investigated them one at a time. Mostly they were easy-to-find copies, but Richie didn't care about that: Virgil had bought (or given him) all the issues he knew Richie liked best: Plantman, Issue #32, Kung Pow in Hong Kong, LocoMartian means Dreadbot 3000… and a comic that Richie had never seen before. The cover was blank except for a title centered at the top.

MEET DAKOTA'S YOUNGEST, MOST TALENTED HEROES:

GEAR and STATIC!

"Oh, Virg…" Richie stared at the comic for a moment. He longed to read it, to see what Virgil had done- and he was amused by the fact that Static had put his partner's name first, a thing that never happened in the news. _He's trying to make me smile, _Richie thought. And, on the heels of that, _I'm so lucky to have him._

With a slowness borne of reluctance, Richie set the comic book aside with the others and reached back into the box. This time, he pulled out a cloth-wrapped object. Well, it wasn't exactly cloth. It was actually the same material that made up Static's saucer, the material Richie himself had found. _Now why would he…? _But when Richie unwrapped the small object, he understood. Virgil had known- or assumed- that everything Richie received would be checked. So he had hidden a homing device in a cloth-paper-metal-alloy that would shield any electronic devices without seeming to be doing so. _Where a homing device could be hidden in a metal box, that box would be suspect. V got this to me the only way he could. _Richie grinned at Virgil's ingenuity and promptly stuck the homing device to his shirt. It looked like an innocent pin, and Richie grinned at Virgil's brilliance.

Richie drew the blanket from the box next, and his eyes filled with tears. "V… How could you send me this?" Richie held the blanket against his cheek and closed his eyes.

Flashback

Nine-year old Richie crept up the stairs to Virgil's room. The house was so silent it seemed haunted and Richie knew he should be outside with his mom; she would start looking for him soon if he didn't come when she called. But V needed him.

Richie opened the door to Virgil's room and poked his head in. Virgil was huddled on his bed, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold back the tears. His window was open, and the sounds of Mr. Hawkins thanking well-wishers and accepting condolences for the death of his wife drifted into the room. Without asking if he should, Richie closed the door behind him. He crossed to the window, shut it (with some difficulty because he was short for his age) and drew the curtains closed.

In the semi-darkness, Virgil raised his head. His lip was quivering and he looked at Richie as if he didn't know him.

Undeterred by that look, Richie went to the foot of Virgil's bed, scooped up the Green Lantern blanket that had been dumped there and took it to his friend. Rihie wrapped the blanket around Virgil, then made as if to step back.

Virgil caught Richie's wrist in an iron grip and tugged him forward. A moment later, Virgil buried his head in Richie's shoulder, sobbing. Richie held him, rubbing his friend's back. He drew the blanket around both of them and began to rock Virgil.

End Flashback

_When I woke up, it was to Mom and Mr. Hawkins looking down at Virgil and me. We'd fallen asleep somehow, and almost two hours had passed. Virgil was still asleep, but when I started to get up, he woke up and hugged me. He said, "thank you." Then he went back to sleep._

Richie gazed at the blanket in wonder. _Well, I can't return ti to him now. But when I see him again, I'll make sure he keeps it from now on. _Richie rubbed the blanket against his cheek. _But maybe I'll sleep better tonight._

Memories of last night's dream- of Brainiac in all his horrifying glory- threatened to overwhelm him, but Richie turned away from them, shutting the door on that part of himself.

_Virgil loves you, _murmured Gear in his mind. _You're so lucky._

_I know… and he loves you, too. We're two parts of the same whole, Gear. Let's not get too separated again or we might end up like lasts time. We might have a wall spring up between us._

_Richie, that was because Backpack-_

_It wasn't Backpack! And I thought you agreed to trust him,_

_I agreed to follow your lead. Whether I turst someone or not is my decision._

_You're too cold, Gear._

_You're too trusting._

Richie scowled. _Oh shut up, will you?_

For a wonder, Gear did.

Richie brushed a little lint off the blanket, folded it and set it aside. He took out several pictures and laughed over them, seeing many that he had doubles of… or that he might have doubles of, assuming his father hadn't destroyed them. _I won't think about that now._

Richie took out the envelope at the bottom of the box and turned it sideways so he could read what was written there. In Virgil's distinct hand was a short poem:

I went to the woods

Because I wanted to live deliberately

I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life

To put to Ralph all that was not life

And not when I had come to die

Discover that I had not lived

Abraham Calolie

And so I have pledged myself to Richie Foley

From today until tomorrow

From now until forever

Virgil Hawkins

Richie was torn between love and hysterical laughter. He could imagine showing Virgil his little mistake, and he snickered. _Um, V? It's not "To put to Ralph all that is not life." It's "To put to rest and so on and so forth." _Richie snickered again. _But I like your rewrite better._

Careful not to rip the envelope too much, Richie removed the letter inside. _Letter? This looks like a last will and testament! _Richie stared at the four handwritten pages packed with writing. He checked the time, saw he had well over an hour to read the letter, and arranged himself more comfortably on his bed. _Okay, V, I'm ready for whatever you're offering me… I think._

Dear Richie,June 13, 2003

I love you. I love you. I love you. How many times should I write this before moving on to say how much I love you? I don't know; let's give it a few more times. I love you. I love you. Richie Osgood Foley, I love you. I love you.

(Richie laughed- Virgil wrote the way he talked, which was surprising but refreshing. Richie glowed with the words his boyfriend had written.)

I love you more than the waves love the shore. I love you more than the stars love the sky. I love you more than hamburgers love buns.

I love your buns, Rich.

If the world was going to explode tomorrow and there was nothing I could do about it, I would be content to hold you for that last day, knowing that I love you and you love me. You are my strength, my joy, my strength- I already said that, didn't I?- and my life. I need you, Richie, and I thank God every day that I am loved by you.

I love you more than I love flying.

I want you to know about this dream I had a few days ago.

dream sequence

(Richie burst out laughing. Virgil had identified the dream just the way many of their favorite T.V. shows did.)

I am sitting on a rooftop watching Richie fly towards me. He's in costume, but he's carrying his helmet.

"Rich, why aren't you masked? What if somebody sees you?"

"I needed to kiss you and didn't want to bother taking this stupid thing off." Richie grabbed me and kissed me so hard and so deep that my head was spinning. "Virg, I can't wait until we're eighteen. Will you make love me now?"

end dream sequence

I want to hold you, Richie. I want to sit outside, somewhere there are no lights and no other people. I want to watch the sun set and then I want to spen the whole night holding you until the sun rises. I miss you.

I want to comfort you. I don't want you to be so far away with no one to tell you that you were just dreaming, that you're safe. I want you know that all you have to do is call and I'll be there. I love you, my Richie. I love you and I need you and I'll never stop taking care of you. Whatever you need, I'll give. Please, Richie, don't ever forget that. Please promise me you won't forget."

("I promise, V," Richie whispered. He pushed his glasses up, rubbed at his eyes, then adjusted his glasses so he could continue reading.

(The next three pages were filled with poems, some of tehm clearly Virgil's and others ones that he had "borrowed". Richie loved the second of these the best:)

Relief to my soul

Intelligent beyond belief

Cherished by all that have any good sense

Happiness embodied

Important center of my life

Everlasting lover of mine

Only mine

Sexy

Generous and gorgeous

Only mine

Original inventions your specialty

Damned sexy

Forever my lover

Oh man, I can't think of anything for O! Sorry, Rich. Forgive me?

Lasting friendship- lasting love

Eternal partner (in crime or in crime-fighting and maybe? in bed?)

You are my idea of perfection, Richie Osgood Foley

Um, Rich, I wrote this during English when Mrs. Pettibone was telling us about this kind of poem where you take someone's name and make a poem out of it. I can't remember what it's called, but I want you to know that I immediately thought of you.

(And, squeezed onto the very last line of the fourth page:)

I love you I love you I love you I love you Love, V

That night, Richie curled up under the Green Lantern blanket, put the pictures in frames his foster parents had given him, tucked the homing device under his pillow, hid his comics and the letter, closed his eyes, slept and did not dream.

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed "Telling Tales" and thank you to those who suggested that I put the second half of the story into a sequel. I'm not sure if it's a true sequel, since there were so many questions left unanswered in the other story. Maybe it's more like the continuation of a series.

BH: I'm sorry you're confused- does this help a little? If not, please tell me what's the most confusing and I'll do my best to explain things. Maybe I'll rewrite the confusing part and dedicate it to you, so don't be afraid to tell me what's weird.

BTW, why do you think that it was Virgil and Francis first? What did I write that made you think that?

leev: I'm glad you liked it. I was looking for a way to end the first one in a way that would lead everybody to the next one- and I, too, was looking for some sweet reprieve after all the angst.


	2. Virgil's Thoughts Breaking and Mending

**A/N:** I knew there was a reason I put Batman in the last story.. but I didn't get why until now. Anyway, here's the next bit. And I'm sorry about all the typos in the first chapter. I hope I've fixed the ones in here.

Book I

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (1)

Chapter One: Breaking and Mending

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins/Static Shock

Dear Diary, June 16, 2003

It's going to be a battle. I'm up to that, both as Virgil and as Static, even though the superhero identity will on the witness stand a lot more than my alter ego. Static rescued Richie from the KKK; Static took Richie to the hospital. Virgil, on the other hand, only saw Richie's bruises. I'll have to figure out what I'm going to say about how I knew Richie got the bruises from his father. I can't tell about the Shock Voxes and how I overheard the entire conversation in the principal's office. I'll ask Richie what he thinks when I call him in ten minutes.

I hate not being able to just talk to Richie whenever I want. But his temporary foster family has very strict rules, and one of them (for the children only, of course) is no calls until seven at night, and no calls after eight. Richie has a sister, and so he can talk from seven-thirty until eight, giving her the other half hour. It's not enough, and never will be, but hopefully we can win custody of Richie.

And of course, with Richie living in Gotham, there's no patrolling. It's been so long since I've been out with Gear that I'm starting to think about bringing Rubberband Man with me just to relieve my boredom. Hmmm…. Nope, not quite that desperate.

It's seven twenty-four. This is the longest ten minutes of my life- except so was the time yesterday between 7:20 and 7:30 yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. Richie's been in foster care for four days; it feels like a century. Sharon says I'm exaggerating, but then again she doesn't know that I love Richie. Pops has kept that a secret, thank God. Oh, I'll tell her eventually, once Richie's living here, but I'm not in the mood to be teased.

Seven twenty-five. Too bad speeding up my clock won't make time really go faster. Maybe Richie can build a time machine. If he ever gets back to the gas station. If I ever get a chance to see him again…

Stop thinking like that!

Still seven twenty-five.

I'm almost sorry school is ending in three days. What will I do all day besides wait for the phone to ring? My only comfort is Backpack, who, after apologizing for thinking badly about me (since the feeling was mutual, I apologized then said we were equal) has hidden here with me. He can't talk to Richie from that far away, but sometimes he can get general impressions. Earlier today, he sensed a huge upsurge of happiness from Richie and I assumed Richie had finally gotten the present I'd sent him.

Flashback

I considered the box in my lap. It's only slightly bigger than shoebox, which is amazing considering all the stuff I managed to fit in it. Pops and Sharon helped me put it together this morning after the KKK/Hotstreak attack. Richie's still in the hospital, but he'll be out this afternoon, and headed for Gotham before sunset. He'll get this at his new address. I had to give him something to make him feel a little bit better. On the top of the box, it says "FH Survival Kit". FH stands for Foster Home.

Item one: comics, an essential part of our diet since Richie and I were eight. All our favorites are there: Plantman, Particalman, Kung Pow, LocoMartian and a Static/Gear comic I drew myself a few months ago. It was supposed to be for Richie's birthday. Under the circumstances, I'm pretty sure he'd rather have it now instead of later. I'll try to draw another before July 28th. Hopefully Richie will be back in Dakota by then. He could stay with his mom, but she's having a Nervous Breakdown, with a capital NB.

Item two: a homing device just in case Richie really needs me. Rich built these little babies three months ago. We haven't had to use them for an emergency yet, but with my powers I can pick up the homing signal almost half a world away.

Item three: my Green Lantern blanket. I don't know if this will embarrass or anger Richie, but I'm hoping it will make him feel better about being in a strange place. When I was four, Moms gave it to me. I thought the thing was huge when I was that age, but it can be rolled up really small. I put a note with it that says, basically, that it was my comfort when I was little and I wanted Richie to have it. Maybe Rich is too old for it, but there's a tickle in the back of my mind that hopes he'll like it.

Item four: pictures of the two of us, and a few newspaper clippings. I don't know what Richie can take from his old house to this new place, or what his father hasn't destroyed, so I'll give him these. My favorite picture is one Pops took of Richie and I, nine years old, huddled under the Green Lantern blanket on the couch, our eyes glued to the T.V. Rich an I are holding hands, and it's dark outside the windows, so I bet we're watching _Are You Afraid of the Dark?_ Just under that is a newspaper clipping. The headline reads: "Static's New Partner- Gizmo!" Despite the fact that they quote me as saying his name is Gear in the article, the title still stands. Richie was so furious (at first) then amused (much later) that I had to save the clipping.

Item five: my first love letter to Richie. It's four pages long.

End Flashback

Seven twenty-nine!

Okay, I can write again, and I want to write down what he said so I won't forget it. Thirty-one minutes ago:

I pick up the phone and start dialing slowly. I call most nights, except on weekends when Richie's foster parents have free minutes. I agreed to do it after the first two-minute call where Richie said he couldn't talk for a long time because of the cost of long distance. Pops says I can call Richie each night as long as I only stay on for half an hour.

Backpack scuttles from the bed to my bed and leans close tot eh phone so he can hear Richie's voice.

Seven-thirty. I punch the last few keys and the phone rings once.

"Hi, V! I got your package! Thank you!"

My face lights up at once as I grin. "Hi, Rich. I'm glad it got there okay." I take a deep breath as tears sting my eyes. It's so good to hear him sound happy. The last three days, I've had to talk to him a little before I was able to raise his spirits. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too. How was school?"

"It was so boring I was forced to take notes."

Richie laughs. "I'm glad you aren't copying off me anymore. How's BP?"

I wish they could talk to each other over the phone, but the mental connection doesn't recognize phone lines as a means of transportation. I take out the sheet Backpack printed off my computer. "Ready for his speech?"

"Always."

"'Hello, Richie. Hello, G." (We don't dare say "Backpack" or "Gear" over the phone, just in case.) "I miss you. Today, Sharon made pasta that looked like earthworms- she said it was the brown sauce- and Virgil pretended to eat it. He volunteered to do dishes to pass the time before he could call you, and so he could make himself a sandwich. I went on the Net and found out that there are ten Static Shock fan sites, twenty-one that are for both Static and Gear, and three for just Gear.'"

"Our superheroes sure are popular," Richie puts in, laughing again. "Have they been on the news?"

"Nope," I tell him, "Dakota's been awfully quiet lately."

Richie's "Oh" sounds like a disappointed Gear. I laugh.

"This is BP again. 'I tried my hand at cooking today, with Virgil's help. We filled the kitchen with smoke and set off smoke detectors. Luckily we got it all cleaned up before anyone got home."

Richie is laughing so hard that all I hear over the phone is "…Huuuuhhh ….hisssss…. hahahaha…. so cool…. Kuhfffff……"

"Breathe, Richie," I said.

"….trying….haha….kuhfffff…… snort snort … Okay…. Okay, I'm better now…" Richie takes a deep breath. "Man, I needed that…"

"We're always glad to oblige. BP's got a little more. 'If you need me, Richie, just call, and I'll be there. So will Virgil."

"I know. Tell BP thank you for me, V."

Backpack beeps and Richie chuckles. "Now, Virg, about the blanket…."

"You're in a strange place, Richie; I thought it'd make you feel better." I keep my tone light, but my words aren't lost on Richie.

"It does." Richie's voice is so low I can barely hear him. At a more normal volume, he continues, "Thank you for the pictures. Mr. and Mrs. Edmann gave me some picture frames, and I'm going to make collages tonight. After I do my homework."

I can't believe he hasn't done it yet. Richie's not a procrastinator. "How do you like the new school?"

"It's quiet, religious and… nice." Richie sounds apologetic. "I love Dakota Union High but, well, I've gotten a chance to ask a lot of questions here. I haven't gotten answers yet, but I'm closer than I ever was at home."

"Rich, what are you talking about?"

Richie coughs. "I'm not sure yet, Virg. I'm… I feel protected here. It's a feeling I've only had in two other places: your house and…"

"BP's house," I supply, meaning the gas station.

I can almost hear the smile in Richie's voice as his Bang-Baby brain makes the connection instantly. "Yeah. There."

I decide not to push him. He'll explain when he's good and ready. "I'm glad you found a place to feel safe, Richie. Maybe when you're living here you can visit there sometimes."

"I'm already emailing several of the teachers and pastors. I won't lose touch with them."

_Pastors? Well, he did say it was a religious school._ I glance at my watch. "Richie, it's seven fifty. Is there anything we need to talk about tonight?"

He doesn't answer right away. I watch the clock tick over to seven fifty-one. "I sent you a letter, V. It will say everything I want to say, and probably more coherently. Will you…" He swallows, started again. "I don't want to make you worry, but-"

Instantly, alarm bells clang in my head. "You can tell me anything, Richie," I say, thinking, _If anyone's hurting him, if anyone is even picking on him…_

"The nightmares… they're getting really bad. I woke up Mr. and Mrs. Edmann with a really bad one last night."

"What was it, Rich?"

"Him."

"No hair or blond hair?" Which means: Brainiac or Mr. Foley?

"No hair." There's a distinct quiver in Richie's voice. "It was the worst one yet... I couldn't wake up on my own…" He sobs, then clears his throat. "I'm sorry, Virg; this isn't fair to you. I'll be-"

"If you want me there, Rich, I'll get there somehow. Just say the word."

Richie fights in silence for a moment, then speaks. "You can't come, Virg. You have things you have to do there. And coming for one night won't make it all better. I'll be okay. Your letter really helped… Everything really helped. It's only a week until the trial, and then I'll be able to see you. I can make it that long."

"Bro, you're the bravest man I know."

Richie laughs, his voce cracking. "I love you." He stops, seeming to realize what he said over the phone, and adds, 'Bro, you're the best." Then, after a moment, "It's eight o'clock. I have to go."

"I love you, too, my brother." I don't care how corny it sounds. "Try to sleep tonight."

"I will. Love to BP and to your pops and sister."

"Right back atcha, Rich."

"Bye, V."

"Bye."

Richie hangs up.

Back to the future, just like the movie: I want to fly out there. I could do it in a night, but I know the police are watching Richie's new family just in case the K decides to take their hate all the way to Gotham. So I have to stay here an

Chapter One: Breaking and Mending

The crash of splintering wood shocked Virgil out of his diary and back to the real world. He sat, disoriented, for a moment, then heard Sharon scream as the sound breaking wood was repeated. Virgil stood up so fast his chair fell over backwards and he almost went over with it.

_That was the front door. _Virgil grabbed for his bag, and his costume inside it.

Backpack beeped the moved towards the door.

The sound of breaking glass accompanied another of his sister's screams.

Virgil shook his head as he yanked off his clothes. "Stay here. If I need you, I'll call." In a trice, he was dressed and out his window. Downstairs, rising everywhere, was the smell of smoke.

oOo

The ten white-robed figures were scattered over the front lawn. One had raised his hand, another brick at the ready. Two were at the door, trying to knock it down.

Static took in the scene, and his fear for his family was forgotten in his anger. _You picked the wrong house, gentlemen, _he thought. With less difficulty than it takes to tell (such was his fury), Static picked up the two garbage cans near the curb and sent them rocketing through the air. He smiled, satisfied, when the cans hit the two men at the door squarely, slamming them against the door. They slumped forward, their eyes rolling up to show the whites. Static picked up the cans again and turned towards the other KKK members on the lawn. The one with the brick had dropped it in surprise. Static smiled at them. "Hey, boys! Didn't you know it's Reverse-Racism Day? Today, the ns fight back!" He hurled the cans, catching the one who had been holding the brick and the two directly behind him.

Static didn't wait for any of the others to find either their feet or their wits; he yanked part of the next door neighbor's chain link fence out of the ground and used it like a dipper. He scooped up four of the five remaining men and tossed them high in air. They went up screaming and came down on the chain link dipper again. Static wrapped them up in the bit of fence and dropped them on the ground from a height of ten feet. The little ball they were in bounced and rolled- right over the three unconscious men in the front yard.

"Bet you wouldn't have attacked us if you had known it was Reverse Racism Day, would you, boys?" Static picked up the two men who had collapsed by the front door. He dropped these next to the others on the lawn. Dexterously, he unwrapped the four in the fence and plopped the other five inside with them. It was a tight fit, but Static grinned as he wound the fence tight around them. "What's wrong, boys?" he muttered, knowing they were unconscious. "Pressure too much for you? Feeling the squeeze? Maybe you'll think twice before you mess with my territory."

Static turned at the sound of groaning wood. He saw that someone was trying to force their way outside. He caught the doorknob with his power and yanked it open. Mr. Hawkins stumbled forward in surprise and would have fallen down the steps if Virgil hadn't caught him and set him back on his feet.

The older man gazed at the nine white-robed figures caught as well as ever a spider captured a fly, then he looked at Static. "Thank you."

Sharon was standing beside her father. She was holding a large pan in her hands. "Daddy, the fire's out. Who-" She caught sight of Static and smiled.

Static flew down to them. "Are you sure the fire's out?"

Sharon nodded. "Yeah…" She saw the men and shivered. "I thought things like this didn't happen anymore," she whispered.

Her father put an arm around her shoulders. "Maybe with the capture of these, the others will take the hint and go back underground."

Static wondered how much he should say. He wanted them to feel safe again, but he had to have them on their guard. "One of them said something about teaching the friends of Foley." He watched them exchange a look. "They've probably learned their lesson now, but maybe you should tell the police just in case." A part of him wondered why he had just lied, but another part, the stronger part, knew instinctively that the K hadn't attacked his house at random. _Maybe Mr. Foley ordered them to attack here before he was taken to the police._ Suddenly, Static had to know for sure, and he knew the only person who could tell him the truth was Richie's dad.

To his family, he said, "I'll see this bunch to the police station." _Wait. They're going to be looking for Virgil. Well, can't be helped. I'll dump these guys off, come back check in with Pops, then go interrogate Foley._

"You should be all right now, but I'll make sure to patrol this area regularly until things settle down. He offered them a reassuring smile, then picked up the fence-wrapped nine and flew off.

Twenty minutes later, after depositing the white-robes at the police station, checking in the with Backpack to let the robot know all was well, and pretending to have just come in from a bike ride and discussing stuff with his father, Static flew back to the police station, meaning to find out exactly where Mr. Foley was being held.

And as he flew, this thought ran through his mind: _Here I come, Foley, ready or not._ The grin that came with this not-so-innocent sing-song completely transformed his face. He flew on, completely unaware that he more resembled a goblin than Dakota's funky fresh hero.

oOo

Static reined in his temper. It was surprisingly difficult. He hoped the police captain he was speaking to heard and appreciated the enormous amount of control it took for the superhero before him to keep from losing his temper.

"What do you mean he's out on bail?" Static asked, his voice scarcely above a whisper. "How could you let an abusive… man… like him go free?"

"He isn't a child molester, Static, or a rapist. He's a man who abused his son. He won't look for anyone else to hurt. And since Richard is safe-"

Static's voice dropped but the words carried easily. "He's a KKK member. How can you let him go free? What if he hurts someone? What if he was involved with these clowns tonight?"

"Mr. Foley may be abusive, but there is nothing in his record to show that he would carry out anything that the Ku Klux Klan preaches" The man shrugged. "I think with this attack that they've gotten all thoughts of attacking innocent people out of their systems. I wouldn't worry about them again if I were you. We don't take kindly to any sort of hate crimes. You can be sure these men will be penalized to the full extent of the law."

Static stared at him, for the moment unable to think past the fact that Richie's father was still walking around free.

The captain must have seen that the superhero before him was still furious, because he said, somewhat apologetically, "We thought it was safe. After all, it isn't as if Mr. Foley's son is anywhere near Dakota right now."

"That," said Static, shaking out his saucer with a savage flip of his wrist and energizing it, "isn't the point." Not trusting himself to say anything more, he leapt onto his ride and flew out the open window.

Once he was outside, Static headed for the junkyard. _I need something to destroy. _He shot south, his teen bared and tiny sparks streaming behind him.

In the junkyard, Static located four cars. He stacked these, narrowed his gaze, wound up much like a baseball pitcher, and let the cars have it. As electricity enveloped the cars, Static thought, _There's your mistake, Captain; men like Foley don't stop with just their son. Their hatred feeds on itself. It will destroy everything if left unchecked._

Ten minutes (and four piles of scrap metal later) Static retreated to the gas station. Once there, and with the doors locked, he curled up on the couch and buried his head under a pillow. _Richie, I miss you. I feel like my world's falling apart. When did it get so hard to make people understand who the bad guys are? And when did it get so hard for me to stay calm? When did this happen, Rich, and what can I do about it?_

He lay that way, perfectly still and sorrowful, until he heard City Hall's clock strike ten. _Is it still that early? _Static longed for morning.

_More specifically, I want it be seven twenty-nine tomorrow night. I want to talk to my Richie._

Groaning, knowing that he might be grounded if he wasn't home when his father went looking for him, Static dragged himself off the couch and went home.

oOo

Backpack sent the message again with no real hope that it would reach all the way to Gotham. But he had been trying to build a stronger mental connection since Richie was "punished" by the KKK. _I need to know if he's in danger,_ the robot thought he sent the message again. _If I can't be with him, I need a way to keep in touch with him. Telephone calls are nice; I like hearing his voice. But if he needs me, really needs me, I must know. Virgil seems content to just leave Richie out there on his own, but he doesn't understand Richie like I do. And Richie may have Gear to help him, but what he really needs is someone on the outside taking care of him._

Again, he sent the message: _Richie, can you hear me? Respond if you do. _

If he could have sighed, he would have. Perhaps the simple human act would have relieved some of his frustration, if not his worry. _How many more times will I have to send this before Richie answers? This would be so much easier if Richie still had the implant Brainiac gave him. As much as I hated that thing, as much as I hated that it changed our connection, suddenly I could hear Richie even when he was somewhere else. When Brainiac left me and entered Richie, he would sometimes take Richie places that were miles away from the gas station. But no matter how far away my Richie had been taken, I could still hear his thoughts._

He stopped transmitting the message. _What if I built the chip again? What if I did that, then sent it to Richie? Then we could always be in contact, no matter what. I would always be able to hear his thoughts, no matter how far away he was. I would always be there to hear if he shouted for help._

Backpack searched his databanks for a copy of the schematics for the chip. _The Justice League may have erased all such records… Ah! There it is! _Backpack pulled up the schematic and studied it with his internal eye. _I could have this built within a day. All I need to do is return to the gas station._

Pleased with himself and at peace for the first time since Richie had been taken by Brainiac, Backpack set himself into recharge mode for the night. _I will go in the morning. Virgil can take me on his way to school. _It wouldn't do to be spotted by some enemy and captured. _I won't let anyone keep me from helping Richie, and that includes avoiding all possible dangers._

oOo

_I've been here for a week now, _Richie thought as he hung up the phone. _A whole week and things haven't fallen apart yet, either in my head or back in Dakota. Maybe V and I will actually survive this thing._

Of course, the trial wasn't far off; Richie decided he wouldn't dare to trust to fate until that was over.

Richie slipped under the covers, taking the Green Lantern blanket from its place beside his pillow and snuggling into it. He found it easier to sleep if he went right to bed after talking to Virgil. The hour was ridiculously early, and it almost ensured that Richie would wake up at four or five in the morning, but it was so much easier to fall asleep when he could practically still hear Virgil saying good-bye or good night.

Richie chuckled to himself. _Of course, it would help if I'd take off my glasses. _On more than one occasion he had fallen asleep with the things still on his face and woken up with angry red lines from where the frames had dug into his skin.

Richie curled on his side. As on previous nights, he was prompted to pray. Since he was accustomed to only praying during times of high stress, Richie was amazed how calming he found prayers right before he slept.

_Hi, God. This is Richie Foley again. Thank You for letting me talk to V today. Thank You for his inspiring and loving words. Thank You for BP's inspiring words. I'm asking this question again, but I'll keep asking it until I get answer, one way or the other: does BP have a soul? I think he does, but I'd like to know what You think. Anyway, I'm grateful that You've kept the nightmares away. Please continue to do so. Reverend Ovid (he said I could call him that, and maybe it's silly, but I think of V every time I say his name) reminded me to thank You for the sacrifice Your Son made. I believe in Him now, and in the Holey Spirit, too, as real manifestations of You. So, here goes: Lord God, I am a sinner. I have sinned against You, against others and against myself. I know, Lord God, that I must give over control of my soul to You, must accept Jesus as my lord and savior to be saved myself. And so I do. I ask you to welcome me into your kingdom, God, in the name of Your Son, my Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen._

Richie fell asleep five minutes later with a smile on his face.

He dreamed.

The darkness of midnight was broken by a thousand stars. Richie lay on his back on Virgil's roof, staring up at them. For some reason, every light in Dakota was dark. Richie wasn't worried. _It was just a power failure,_ he thought. _V went to check it out, to make sure nothing meta-human related happened, but he'll be home soon._ Stretching his hands up over his head, Richie released a groan of pleasure as his muscles lost the tension they had been holding. _Don't know why I was tense, but I am. Ah, well. I'll live. The tension's gone now._

He heard soft scuffling and electronic behind sounds him. He rolled over to look, and saw Backpack coming towards him. Richie grinned. _Hey, BP. Enjoying the- _

Richie couldn't have accurately described the sensation that flooded him at that moment if he'd tried. Somewhere between an invasive probe and an arousing caress, the feeling started inside his head and spread throughout his body, lighting his nerves on fire and making them dance. He writhed, both towards his robot, his eyes frozen wide. _Bp, what-?_

_We can feel each other now, Richie. Can't we? We can feel each other this way. I will always be able to talk to you, no matter how far away you are._ Backpack scuttled over to Richie and settled himself next to the teen.

Richie drew himself a little away and sat up fully, his eyes not leaving Backpack's single sensor-eye. _You aren't doing this, are you, BP? Are you making me feel…?_ He couldn't find the word.

Backpack found it. _A whore? Why do you feel like a whore, Richie? It's just me in your mind, like always. I'm trying to help you. Why are you afraid?_

Richie started to crawl backwards. That sensation hadn't left, but his body was getting used to it, allowing him to move. _I want V. I want V._

_Virgil's in Dakota, Richie. You're not really in this dream-world you've created. You're in Gotham, asleep in a small house surrounded by a white fence. There are rose bushes on the front two corners of the house, and Mrs. Edmann picks a fresh one each morning when they're in season to put on the kitchen table. The roses from the day before are hanging upside down in the kitchen, drying. She will turn these into carefully preserved decorations for-_

_Stop! _Richie staggered to his feet and backed away. _How can you know all this? _Then he laughed. _I must be making all this up. I'm trying to scare myself. _He looked around, looking for some way to escape the dream. _I won't scream again; I know it's a dream this time. I can make myself wake up if I really want to._

Backpack took a tentative step towards him.

_I really want to! _Richie cried, his legs trembling like grass in a breeze as he took another step back. He pinched himself, but didn't wake up. _I must not be really pinching myself in my sleep, _he thought. _I'm probably twitching a little, but I'm not able to hurt myself._

Backpack moved closer. _Richie, I'm sorry you're upset. Please let me help you. If I'm hurting you, I'll break the connection. I was just trying to be closer to you. I don't like it when you're so far away. I don't like not being able to know where you are and what's happening to you. It reminds me of when you were at the meeting hall and I didn't know what was happening to you, only that you were gone for far too long._

Was Backpack babbling? _That settles it. I must be dreaming. But, Justin case… BP, can you leave, please? I'm really scared. Please, whatever you did to reach me all the way in Gotham, please undo it. I promise I'm okay out here. Maybe when I get back we can work on the invention you made so it will work without making me feel…_

_Weird?_ Backpack suggested. _I'm sorry I frightened you, Richie._ And, just like that, he was gone.

Richie stared at the place his robot had been, thinking, _Maybe this is all in my head after all. I probably just made him go away._

Richie awoke, his heart pounding. He groped for and found his glasses. He slipped them on, and almost screamed. A shadow tall as a giant stood near his window where no shadow should have been. Richie's first thought was, _How could Ebon have followed me? _His second was for the homing device under his pillow. But eh didn't fumble for it at once. "Who's there/"

The shadow stepped forward, and became slightly less intimidating, though no shorter. "Richie, I need to talk to you."

Richie knew better than to ask questions of The Batman, and so he slipped silently out of bed, yanked on pants, a shirt, socks and shoes. For good measure, he grabbed the homing device out from under his pillow and slipped it into his pocket.

"A weapon?" Batman asked.

Richie was just shaken enough to speak to the Dark Knight without hesitation. "Insurance. If anything happens to me, this will go off and Static will be here in an hour."

Batman gave a curt nod. "Let's go."

Richie followed him to the window. When Batman told Richie to hold on to him, Richie shivered. He didn't want to be within touching distance of Batman. Nevertheless, he obeyed. After all, if Batman was here, maybe he, Richie, was needed. Maybe even V needed him.

Batman shot his bat-hook (_or whatever he calls the thing, _Richie thought) into the air and an instant later the two of them were up and out. Richie had never been afraid of heights, and now he was glad as the two of them soared upwards. Richie hadn't been able to see what the hook had hit, but he trusted Batman's aim. It was probably as good as Backpack's.

Thinking of his robot, Richie shivered again.

They broke through some clouds and then Richie saw the Batplane. He almost forgot that he'd been having a nightmare only a few moments ago when he saw it. _So cool. Someday, when I'm rich, I'm going to build one like that._

The roof opened and Batman deposited Richie in the second seat. Instantly, a harness dropped over Richie's shoulders, restraining him and protecting him. Batman was in his seat then, and the roof closed. Richie was pushed back into his seat as the plane shot off.

Batman handed something over the back of the seat. Richie took it automatically. "Put it on," Batman said as Richie turned the blindfold in his hands.

Richie didn't protest; he felt safer with Batman than he had since leaving Dakota.

_Actually, that's not true. I was completely at peace with myself and with the world when I went to sleep. I was comfortable when I said the prayer. But it still feels good to be with another human being I can trust._

When the blindfold was in place, Richie thought they would just ride in silence until they got to wherever they were going. But Batman surprised him.

"You don't argue as much as your partner."

Richie snorted laughter; he couldn't help it. It wasn't only the words, but the seeming randomness of them. And, oh, God, it felt good to have something to laugh at. "He's not the most trusting of souls, or the most accepting. But I like that; it's harder for him to be taken in by false pretenses then it might be for others."

To that Batman had no reply. They flew in silence. Richie began to enjoy the trip, blindfold or no blindfold. He listened to the hum of the engines and tried to figure out from the sound how they were designed and what powered them.

Batman broke into his thoughts. "Do you know why I came to find you?"

"Honestly, no. I thought maybe V asked you to-"

"I haven't spoken to Virgil. I'm here to talk to you about your hospital stay. About that conversation we had when you woke up that night I stayed with you."

Richie frowned, thinking back. It was harder than he would have thought to find the memory.

_He's talking about when Backpack built the wall and kept me-_

_Shut up, Gear. Backpack didn't do it. And if you say that one more time, maybe _I'll_ find a way to build a wall._

_You shouldn't joke about things like that, Richie. Especially after that dream you just had. Don't forget to tell Batman about that._

_He doesn't want to hear about my screwed-up dreams._

"Richie?"

The teen jumped a little. "Sorry." He blushed. "I remember. It just took me a minute."

"Your lips were moving."

Richie blinked. "Uh, really? Could you read them?" How could Batman see him anyway when he was facing the canopy's front window?

"Some of it. But I'm more interested in the fact that your eyes changed." A pause, then, "We're almost there. We'll continue this inside."

A minute or so later, the Batplane settled and the engines cut off. Richie sat perfectly still in the silence for a moment. The canopy opened above him, but still he sat.

"Richie?" A hand removed the blindfold, making it disappear. Batman was standing beside him, looking down at him. "What is it?"

Richie bit his lip. "I'm all right." He climbed out. "I'm sorry…"

Batman was tempted suddenly to hold the boy against him. _No. I will sin against his trust as I did against Dick's. I will not fill him with false hope. If you hold a child once, they always expect to be held._ "Follow me." He led Richie through an echoingly-large space to a cavern that took Richie's breath away.

Computers lined one wall- Richie grinned- and other were lined with tables and held all sorts of intricately-built inventions. Richie's eyes filled with a hunger that temporarily drove all frightened and confused thoughts from his mind.

Gear was in heaven. Richie wasn't far behind.

_Look at this! Virg must have seen this when he was chasing Allie! He must have…_ Richie turned around in a complete circle, trying to see everything and memorize it. _Someday I want to get just a few hours alone with all these amazing-_

Richie stopped turning. Batman was walking briskly away from him. The teen hurried to catch up.

The two of them climbed a staircase and Batman led Richie through a door. Richie found himself in a library the likes of which he had only seen in the large library in Dakota. _And I think this one might be even bigger._

He noticed that there were windows, but these were covered by heavy, brocade drapes. _That's probably so I can't see where I am._ He didn't care. He followed Batman to a pair of leather chairs. Richie hesitated, but when Batman gestured for him to sit, Richie obeyed. He sat as his foster family did when they were waiting for something, be it a performance or a meal. He was conscious that he had adopted their posture, but he didn't care. All he really wanted was to not step on Batman's toes.

Batman sat beside him. "Start with the hospital. Can you tell me anything more about that night? You said you were confused about certain memories."

Richie shook his head. "I don't remember anything more than I told you. I was in pain- from the beating the KKK gave me- and I asked V or his sister to find a nurse. Sharon went out, but I started to feel…" He shrugged. "I guess the closest thing I can come up with is being drunk, but I'm never been drunk. I couldn't control what I said without a massive effort. Then I went back to sleep. When I woke up, you were there and I felt all right, although lost and a bit disoriented." He took a deep breath. "I don't really understand what made my memory fuzzy, but something happened to me." He swallowed. "In my mind."

Batman studied him for a moment. "Tell me what you know, Richie. I won't judge anything you say."

Richie swallowed again. _Can I trust him not to laugh?_ Then he smiled inside himself. _He's Batman; he won't laugh. Maybe he _can't_ laugh._ "The Big Bang changed me, just as it changed V. My power's super intelligence, which is helpful, but sometimes scary. Recently, shortly after my… time… with Brainiac, I started to realize that there are two people in my head. There's the person I think of Richie- the one speaking to you now- and there's Gear. This separation isn't like what happens to many superheroes, where they associate one set of behaviors with their mask and another with their secret identities. Gear and I are really two separate people. So when you saw my eyes change, I guess that was probably because I was talking to Gear in the Batplane. But I've never seen them change, so I can't be sure."

Batman showed no surprise or disbelief. "Let me talk to Gear."

The teen's voice deepened, but only by half a pitch or so. And yes, Batman saw his eyes change, harden. "You're speaking to him now. Most people have different aspects to their personality. In our case, Richie and I were gifted or cursed with the ability to actually be separate people with separate memories and ideas about the world. We share many things, and we can read each other at all times, but we are distinct personalities for all that. There are times we don't agree on things, and we value things differently."

Gear sat forward, meeting Batman's eyes without flinching. "A wall was created in our mind, and I was imprisoned behind it. I could her Richie's thoughts as only echoes. I could read his emotions, but not his specific ideas." His eyes turned inward for a moment, then he looked back at Batman. "Richie says he couldn't feel me at all, partially because at first he didn't realize I was gone. He felt our separation as a struggle to keep a lid on his emotions. When he did become aware, he was able to demolish the walls from the outside that I had been straining against without success. We were both tired afterwards, but the wall came down and hasn't been put back in place."

Suddenly, he frowned with such ferocity that Batman wondered how different Gear and Richie really were. Surely Richie's face had never held such a look of rage. He watched as Gear again looked within himself. This time, when he refocused, it was Richie who was in the forefront. The teen looked down at his hands. "I do know what made me confused and dazed and made my memories fuzzy. But if I tell you, promise you won't hurt him."

"Hurt who?"

"Backpack. He didn't mean to hurt me; he was only trying to protect me from the pain. He… severed the connections between my mind and my body. That's why I felt disconnected from myself." He shook his head violently. "Gear thinks Backpack made the wall, too, but he has no proof. And a lot of things have changed in Dakota, but people, even robot-shaped ones, are still innocent until proven guilty."

Batman considered Richie's words, thinking, _He is a little like Scarface, or rather, the man who controlled Scarface. That man, too, had two personalities that he was convinced were separate. If you speak to one, it didn't mean you spoke to the other. _Batman looked at Richie, and saw that the teen was looking inside himself again. _The only difference here is that Richie and Gear understand they are the same person, just split. I do not believe Richie is mad; I think he has really been split in two. The question is this: can they be put back together? And if they can, should they?_

He turned his mind from that with an effort. _Backpack is the concern right now. I will address that first, then try to talk to these two._

"Tell me about Backpack's artificial intelligence."

Richie looked relieved that Batman wasn't angry. "I never built any sort of intelligence into him, but he developed it on his own."

"Did it exist before Brainiac?"

Richie blinked, and Batman read his expression easily. The teen was surprised by the question; it would have never occurred to him. "Before. He started showing the first signs of his own intelligence the day I introduced him to V. He'd only been built a week ago. When I introduced him to Virg, I sensed Backpack enjoying the fact that we had snuck up on V. And I felt his pride when V told me how cool BP was. I wasn't hearing thoughts, and at first I thought I was just imagining things. But when Gear finally talked me into connecting to BP- my mind to his system- I realized that BP did have an intelligence of his own."

"You said that Gear convinced you. When was this?"

"About two weeks before Brainiac."

_Does he reckon all time in relation ti when Brainiac kidnapped him? Yes, I think he does, and it isn't necessarily unhealthy. For a long time I thought of the world in terms of "before my parents died" and "after". In time, Richie will heal. I shouldn't expect that yet._

"And when did Gear come into existence?"

"I was consciously aware of him around the same time Virg and I met Shebang. That would make it about two weeks after I'd become comfortable with Backpack."

"But you said Gear urged you to connect with Backpack. Now you're telling me that you didn't know he was there until _after_ you had connected to Backpack."

"I was receiving Gear's suggestions, but I thought they were just from another part of me. I didn't know my personality had split."

"How did you feel when you discovered that you were two people?"

"At first I didn't really care," Richie answered, and he was looking at his hands again. "It was strange, yeah, but I had other things to worry about. After Brainiac… I started to get scared, especially when Gear started arguing with me. But Gear said ti was all right, that I had only been affected by the Big Bang, that the change could be for the better. He said," and here Richie's voice changed, again dropping that-half step in pitch, "You're a genius, Richie. You've just developed more of your brain than most people, that's all. You've developed a way- albeit subconsciously- to get more control over your emotions. For lack of a better description, you have a system of checks and balances in your head. I keep you from panicking, and you keep me human."

"Why does Richie need to keep you human, Gear?" _I have become a psychologist as well as a crime fighter. Who besides Alfred saw this coming?_ _It is just as well that most of the criminals never see this side of me._

"I made of more intellect than emotion. I think of things in terms of right and wrong, not in terms of how others will react. My soul is not fully developed, if you will." He offered Batman a wintry smile. "For good or for ill, this is the way Richie is now: split in half. If you got rid of one of us, the other would either die or turn into someone you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley."

His eyes shifted again. "Gear and I have a happy balance. But I guess you don't need to hear about all this. We're managing without too many problems."

"Does Virgil know about this internal split?"

Richie blinked. "Um, no. It never occurred to me to tell him."

Gear added, "He wouldn't like it if he knew."

"V wouldn't care! He'd-"

"Face it, Richie; no one likes a real freak. The only reason everybody in Dakota likes Static is because he acts like a regular teenager in spite of his superpowers. He wouldn't like you if he knew-"

White hands came up to cover Richie's face. He struggled in silence for a moment, then looked up, meeting Batman's eyes. "I'm sorry," Richie whispered. "I try to keep our occasional arguments inside. I don't want to sound crazy."

_The arguments have increased, _Batman thought. "Richie, will you let me see if I can help you? There might be a way to recombine the two of you so this wouldn't happen."

"But, we balance each other!" Richie looked frightened, and he flinched back from Batman.

"You were balanced before the split. You can be balanced again."

"You can't undo the effects of the Big Bang without taking our intelligence," Gear snapped. "No thank you."

"Perhaps I can." _This isn't why I brought him here, but this is what Richie needs. I would trust Gear in a fight, but I don't like him on his own._

"Do you want to try?" Batman asked. "I have other concerns about your relationship with Backpack, and I would rather that you be one whole person instead of two. You haven't considered what might happen if there are more splits in your personality. It would be bets to stop it now before other separations can occur."

"Who else can there be?" Richie asked. "It's just me and Gear. I don't have nay other personalities."

"A part of you could form around the idea of school. Another could form around your home. There are infinite possibilities."

Richie's eyes were wide. "Can you stop it?"

"What if he-"

"Gear, shut up." Richie met Batman's gaze. "Please, if you think you can help, please do it. I don't mind Gear, but I don't want to risk…" Richie took a deep breath and his voice changed one last time. "Help if you can," Gear whispered, for the first time looking uncertain. "I don't mind if we're joined again, as long as we don't go insane or lose the good things the Big Bang gave us. And, after that, will you listen to our two ideas about Backpack?"

"Gladly."

Richie stood. "I'll do whatever you need me to, but can you tell my… Mr. and Mrs. Edmann where I've gone? They'll be worried, and the police will have a fit."

Batman nodded. "Yes, I'll tell them." And, in spite of the urging of his mind, Batman put his arm around Richie's shoulders. "You have been very brave. Let me help you put yourself back together."

oOo

_I'm scared, but I guess we weren't meant to be like this._

_What really galls me is that we're a genius. How could we have missed the dangerous possibilities?_

Richie gave a mental shrug. Physically, he was asleep, but in his mind he was completely awake. _Well, sometimes when you're so deep in a problem, you can't see the whole thing._

_True enough. _Gear chuckled. _I'm sorry I was causing you so many headaches. I just wanted to make sure that you heard me._

_Well, once we're joined again, we'll always hear each other. _Richie sensed Gear's frown. _What is it?_

_How is Batman going to join us? I mean, we're asleep. He could do anything._

_Since he would never hurt me/us, I/you/we suggest that you/I/we just let him do what he does best. He knows a lot more about everything than you/we/I could have ever imagined._

_I don't know how yo/I/we can trust so easily… but maybe trust is better than mistrust sometimes…_

_Gear….? Gear, can you/I/we hear you/us/me/ Can…_

oOo

Richie awoke to feel the sun warming his face. He lay motionless, enjoying the feeling. He became aware of the bed beneath him and the coverlet over him after a moment of luxuriating in the sunlight. Then he noticed the silence around him. He opened his eyes and reached out to his left, fumbling for his glasses. He had a dim, drug-fogged memory of placing them on a table nearby last night. He found his glasses, sat up and slipped them on. The world sprang into focus. He was in a large bedchamber. The bed he'd been laying in was huge and comfortable and the sunlight said it had to be late afternoon and…

And…

And there was no other voice in his head?

_Gear?_ But even before he'd called, Richie understood with Gear's lightning-quick leaps of intuition: _it worked._ _Batman was able to rejoin us. I'm just Richie again._ He grinned as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood. _I need to find him and thank him. _He stopped short, a small smile pulling at his lips. _And maybe I can even persuade him to tell me how he put me back together. _He took a step, stopped again. _Wait a minute. It's sunset. What time is it?_

He turned a half9cricle before spotting the clock. Seven thirty-two! Shit1

Richie tore out of the room. He had only gone a dozen running steps before he met Batman coming up the stairs. The Dark Knight grabbed Richie's elbow before the teen could trip down the stairs. "Where are you going?"

Richie was too anxious to notice the slight bit of surprise in The Batman's tone. "Virg calls me every night at seven-thirty. If he calls and I'm not there, I'll get really worried!"

Batman put his hand on Richie's shoulder. "I'll take you to a phone."

oOo

In the Hawkins' house, the telephone rang.

"I'll get it!" Virgil yelled, jumping up from the dinner table. He had interrupted a late dinner of underdone meatloaf to try and call RIhcie five minutes ago. Mrs. Edmann had informed him that Richie had been taken into special protection because of police concerns. She hadn't been able to say much, even about how Ichie was when he left. "He was taken in the middle of the night so as to avoid detection," she explained.

_Was he kidnapped? _went through Virgil's mind, but he hadn't asked it. He had returned to the dinner table with no intention of eating another thing and with the determination that he would visit the police station as soon as his pops let him go.

And now the phone was ringing again.

Virgil pounced on the receiver. "Richie?"

"Hey, V. I'm-"

"Hey? Is that all you can say? Where are you? What happened? Are you okay? Which police department took you into protective custody, and why'd they do it? Did they finally figure out that your dad being out on bail isn't such a good idea?"

When Virgil stopped to catch his breath, Richie asked, "Are you done?"

Virgil groaned. "Rich, you scared me out of my mind. I thought maybe-" Then he glanced at his pops and sister still sitting at the table. "Maybe I should go somewhere alone."

"This line's secure," Richie answered, "and you don't have to say anything incriminating; just listen."

Virgil took in a deep breath, more to steady himself than because he needed the oxygen. "Okay. I'm listening."

"Batman came to the Edmann's last night. He wanted to talk to me about Backpack and about why I was so out of it that first day in the hospital. He brought me to the Batcave, and then to his house. I've been here all day, but I was asleep, which is why I didn't call you before so you wouldn't worry." Richie paused to catch his breath. "Anyways, there are a lot of things I have to tell you, but I wanted to apologize first for scaring you."

Richie sounded so… healthy was the only word Virgil could come up with. He sounded better than he had in weeks… _Maybe since before Backpack. Whatever Batman did for him, I'll have to thank him._ "It's okay, Rich; I'm just glad you're all right. So… does that mean you've met him in person? You know, the face he doesn't show the public?"

Richie laughed. "No, not yet. Tell you the truth, V, I'm just so glad to be whole again that I don't care if he's Mary Queen of Scotts."

Virgil snickered. "Well, he's not her, but he is rich."

"Yeah. I'm standing in his house. I've kinda figured that out. Any more questions before I plunge in?"

"Not yet. I'm sure I'll think of more."

Richie launched into a story the likes of which Virgil had only encountered on sci-fi movies and in comic books. The only differences between the story Richie told Virgil and the one he'd told Batman were its beginning and end. The beginning ran this way:

"V, before I forget again, I have to tell you two things that I should have told you a long time ago. First, my dad has been hitting me for as long as I can remember. I was so shocked to find out that you and your pops got along. Maybe that's why I gravitated to your parents: they were so amazing compared to mine. I told you that I once asked your moms if she could adopt me. I asked because I wanted to be in a family where the biggest problem was a brother and sister throwing food and words at each other.

"That's the first thing. Second, I wanted you to know that Dad has been a member of the KKK since I was about six or so. He started attending meetings alone, but when we moved to Dakota the group he was with told him that his family needed to share in the "good news"."

Richie's voice was so thick with sarcasm that Virgil could barely understand him.

"I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid you would stop being my friend if you knew I was around people like that once a week."

"Rich, I would never-" Except he had. Hadn't he freaked out when Richie's dad had said something against his 'kind'? "I'm so sorry, Rich. I promise I'll stop jumping o conclusions and freaking out no matter what your dad says. I'm glad you told me."

"I love you, V."

"Back atcha, Richie."

Richie told the story much as he had to Batman, ending with, "Batman put the two halves of my personality back together earlier today, or maybe it was still last night. I don't know; I was asleep. I feel better than I have in a long time. I forgot what it was like to feel relaxed. I was so busy convincing myself that I was fine being two people that I didn't understand how messed up I'd gotten."

"Richie… Rich, if that 's you messed up, you're amazing. I… well, I knew something was wrong, but I never would have guessed that."

"You knew?"

"You haven't healed since B… since then. Between that and your dad, I was scared for you."

Richie laughed a little; it was an embarrassed and touched sound. "Virg, I'm so lucky to have you."

"And you've always got my back, Rich. I'm lucky to have you, too."

Richie cleared his throat. "I want to tell you about BP… something's up with him or might be, but I want to talk to sleep on it first. I'm not sure what's going on yet. Will you check on him for me? Don't tell him I'm worried about him; just hang around with him. Really listen to the answers he gives."

"What do you think is wrong?"

"I have no clue. And I'm not sure if it's just my imagination. But I want to think about it first, and I need you to be completely objective about this. I won't even tell you my thoughts until you've listened to him. I need your-" he snickered- "virgin ears that have been unsoiled by my speculations."

Virgil blushed. "Okay, Rich; can do. But make you tell me after I give my report, okay?"

"It's a promise."

Virgil's mind was completely taken up with thoughts of Richie, and for a moment he forgot where he was. "I love you, Richie."

Richie gasped. "V, I thought-"

Virgil turned around, meeting the shocked eyes of his pops. _Shit. _"Uh, Rich, I've gotta go."

"I love you, too, Virg. Bye."

"Bye."

Virgil hung up the phone. "Heh…. Hi, Pops. Didn't know you were still here."

**For those who responded to Telling Tales:**

**Dimitri Aidan:** Don't worry about not wanting to finish something. I left the end of Stephen King's The Dark Tower series unread for nine months, and only read it because one of my family members reassured me that it wasn't "really" an ending in the true sense of the word. Also, silly smiles, gasps and other outpourings of emotion are what reading stories is all about. Without them, why would we read? Actually about the homework thing: I'm on spring break, which is the only reason I was able to write this bit.

**For those who responded to The Miracle of Three:**

**Tristripe:** I can't help torturing Richie… It's like this: the more I torture him, the more I discover that he's stronger than anything I can throw at him. Virgil, though… I'm worried about him… And BP, too…

**Chaosdreamer:** Hmm…. Not sure about the Hotstreak as big brother thing. I'll let you know when I figure out what's going on in Hotstreak's mind.

**BH:** Are you the "soon-to-be-famous Gracie"? Just curious, because I didn't know I'd confused anybody else. Remember that the future that Richie dreamed was Brainiac-induced. It was never real, even though maybe sometimes Richie wishes all bu the end had really happened.

**leev:** Speaking as a Christian who's been in both kinds of churches- the psycho kind and the helpful kind- I didn't want to leave out any of my fellow worshipers, especially the good ones.


	3. The Trial, Part One

**Author's Note:** I want to try something new. I'm curious if I can be like Stephen King (has anybody noticed the pattern, or my obsession, yet?) and keep the chapters about the same length. So each one will be between twenty and thirty pages. This doesn't apply to Virgil's journal entries, though. Anyway, enjoy this next bit and thank you to all those who reviewed.

P.S. How was my spell-check/grammar-check on this one?

Book I

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (1)Pg. 21

Chapter One: Breaking and MendingPg. 26

Chapter Two: The Trial, Part OnePg. 44

Chapter Two: The Trial, Part One

"Virgil, why do you look so guilty?" Robert Hawkins gestured for his son to come sit beside him. "I already know of your love for Richie; you confessed it long before this, remember?"

Virgil nodded. "I know… but I've never said I loved him in front of other people before. It feels… weird. Like I'm televising it or something. I like keeping it a secret. Somehow, when I don't do that, it feels like I'm either jinxing our love or showing it off like a trophy. I don't know why it feels like that, but it does. And the last thing I want to do is hurt our relationship."

Robert leaned forward. "Do you trust Richie?"

Virgil blinked. "Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"Are you afraid he will forget you or move on?"

"No!"

"Are you thinking you'll move on?"

Virgil's lips parted. "No…No. I would never leave Richie."

"But?"

"I… He… We're only sixteen. Things change. What if after the trial or… or right after he comes back, we have a fight or something? I have to be really careful around him. If I say the wrong thing, I'll hurt us. And I don't want to hurt us. I love him."

"What you say to others isn't what determines Richie's love for you, or your love for him. It's what the two of you think and say to each other that matters."

Virgil stared down at his hands. "I know."

"And don't treat him like a glass vase, Virgil. Treat Virgil the way you want to treat him the rest of your life. The problem with some people is that they act out of character when they're dating, then expect the person to still love them when they get married and revert to what they were before. Do you think Richie will need you to walk on eggshells around him the rest of your lives?"

Virgil shook his head, and when he did that, he smiled. "Okay. I'll treat Rich like I always have."

His father nodded. "If you try to outthink the future, Virgil, you'll only end up hurting yourself and those you love."

Virgil stood. "I guess I'll go out for a walk, if it's okay."

"Stay in the well-lit areas," his father reminded him.

"I will, Pops," Virgil answered, thinking, _Static goes where he's needed, not where it's necessarily safe. Not that there's been that much metahuman activity lately. Maybe they're tired of getting their asses kicked by Dakota's funky fresh hero. _Virgil allowed himself a grin, but didn't really, in his secret heart, believe that explanation. Hotstreak, after all, would never be afraid of him. And neither would Ebon.

But it made him feel good to pretend that they were afraid of him, so he let himself play with the idea for a night.

---------------oOo-------------

Richie was again sitting in the leather chair facing Batman. Virgil's question- have you seen the face behind the mask? - had started him thinking. _It can't be that hard to figure out who Batman is. I mean, all I'd have to do is do a little sniffing about. _Then he shook his head. _I don't have time for that. Soon I'll be going back to Dakota. I don't have time for anything right now except worrying about the trial… and Backpack._

"Thank you for helping me. I didn't realize how schizo I was starting to feel. It's such a relief to be able to know what I'm thinking without having to think in two voices." He laughed a little. "That sounds nuts, but I promise I'm sane now."

"It was easier than I anticipated," Batman answered. "You wanted to be whole again, and perhaps that's why." He studied Richie for a moment. "What else do you want to tell me?"

Richie closed his eyes for a moment. "Backpack may be dangerous. What I mean is that something might be wrong with him." He described his dream, giving his opinion that maybe he'd just dreamed the robot and nothing was wrong.

"But?"

"But the feeling I filled with during the dream was… something I've felt before. That argues both for and against the theory that I imagined Backpack into my dream." Richie swallowed. "I can't describe the feeling precisely, but I remember the only time I felt it before last night. While I was under Brainiac's control, I felt-" _if I can tell about everything else, I can say this- _"like a whore. Filthy. Used. But also strangely aroused. That was my feeling last night. I told Backpack- or what I thought was Backpack- what I felt. He questioned me, assured me I wasn't a whore, and left when I asked him to. I woke up and saw you standing by the window." Richie realized he'd been leaning forward and he sat back, waiting to see what Batman would make of his dream.

"List the reasons you think Backpack could have actually been in your dream."

Richie frowned. "He worries about me. Back when I was two people, BP didn't trust Gear. And I don't think he completely trusts Virg, even though he used to. I'm not sure what happened between the two of them, but I don't think V trusts Backpack, either."

"Perhaps Virgil's lack of trust stems from what Backpack did to repress your pain."

Richie was nodding even before Batman had finished. "Probably. It makes sense, anyway. But I don't know what reason BP has to mistrust V. Unless of course they fought over BP's decision to protect me from pain. They've been talking recently- BP told me that he hooks himself up to the computer in the gas station and talks to V that way. It's entirely possible that they had some sort of fight."

"Is Backpack capable of fighting?"

"He's capable of thinking, so he's capable of disagreeing with people. He had I have never fought- at least not outright- but that doesn't mean it isn't possible."

"What do you mean, at least not outright?"

So Richie explained how he had blocked Backpack out of his mind so he could search for Gear without being disturbed. "I didn't care of BP saw what I was doing, but I didn't want him to keep talking to me. It was hard enough to concentrate without that."

"Continue with your reasons."

"Well, BP wouldn't stop at much to take care of me. If he found a way to reach me over a hundred-mile distance, he would do it, if only to reassure himself that I was safe. Also, he knows I like talking to him, and he would want to comfort me." Richie was frowning again. "He's never invented something without me before, but that might only be because I'm not at his side. This is the first time we've been far apart for more than a day. And he's been anxious about my safety since the incident at the meeting hall."

"You have used words like anxious and worried. Does Backpack have actual emotions?"

Richie nodded at once. "Of course he does. I don't understand where they came from, any more than I understand how he gained artificial intelligence, but I don't doubt he has them. He was hurt when I locked him out of my mind, and he relaxed once I apologized."

"Can you read him completely at all times?"

"Unless we're far away from each other, yes."

"But you can block him."

"It was a precaution I built into his system when I decided to try the mental link, just in case something went wrong." Richie blushed slightly. "It isn't that I didn't trust him back then, but…" He shrugged. "I've seen enough science fiction movies to be wary of too much technology."

"Are you positive that Backpack had a personality before you were attacked by Brainiac?"

Richie shivered, but his voice was firm. "Yes."

Batman nodded, accepting the affirmation. He didn't speak for several minutes, and Richie took the opportunity to chew at the problem a little more. When Batman spoke again, Richie hadn't found any new angles or questions.

"There is no way to know if Backpack came into your mind until you return to Dakota. When does that happen?"

"Two days from now. That's when the trial starts."

"And where will you stay once you return to Dakota?"

"The police haven't said. I'm hoping they'll let me stay with V, but I can't count on it. More than likely, I'll be stuck in another foster home until the trial's over, one way or the other." His smile was rueful. "It's a shame; I was just starting to like certain things about my life here."

"I'll see what strings I can pull for you."

Richie grinned. "Would you? Thanks. It means a lot to me. I know you and Virg are closer than you and me, but…" His smile turned shy. "I want to be trusted by you, too, someday."

"Has Virgil told you who I am yet?"

Richie shook his head.

"Well, maybe someday we'll talk about that."

Richie's smile changed again, shining and uncomplicated. "Okay."

Batman glanced out the window. True night had fallen some time ago. "You should get some sleep. I'll return you back to the foster home in the morning. But first, I need you to answer two questions for me. First, why do you fight crime in Dakota?"

Richie blinked at the abrupt change of subject, but then, seeing that Batman was serious, considered the question. He thought of justifying his answer, but decided the Dark Knight's demeanor spoke of a desire to have a short, concise response to his question. "I fight crime because I like fighting alongside V. He doesn't need my protection, but he sometimes needs my inventions. And I love being able to help him."

Batman nodded. "Very few superheroes started out battling criminals because they wanted to help the innocent."

Richie thought he knew why The Batman had started fighting crime, but he kept his mouth shut.

"The second question is this: What will keep you from turning into a criminal in order to follow through on your reason for crime-fighting? In other words, what will keep you from killing someone so you can fight alongside Virgil?"

Richie's eyes lost their focus. "Huh." He sat in silence for a full three minutes before he looked at Batman again. "There are two things, but I'm not sure if the second one is strong enough yet. I hope it gets there. I would never turn into a criminal first because of my love for Virg. He would be forced to bring me in if I did something stupid like forgetting the difference between right and wrong. I would never want to put him in that situation. Second-" he blushed- "I've given my life to Christ. I can't kill people because that would make Him cry and would be a deliberate sin against Him and against God." He stared at his hands. "I only said the prayer to ask him into my life the night you came to see me, though, so I'm not sure if my faith is strong yet."

"You don't have to be ashamed of faith, Richie. You're lucky you can still have faith in light of your super-intelligence."

"There's an order to the universe that the Darwin theory, among others, can't explain to my satisfaction."

Batman nodded and stood. "Can you find your way back to your room?"

Richie nodded, rising. "I'll be all right."

Batman turned away. "I'll expect to see you ready at dawn."

"Okay." Richie took a few steps towards his room, starting to think longingly of the spacious bed. Even though he had only awakened a short time ago, he wasn't surprised to discover that he was tired. _Putting two halves of your mind back together can't be easy._

"Richie?"

The teen stopped and turned back, gazing at Batman questioningly.

"Don't try to think in the two voices you named Richie and Gear for a few weeks, if you ever try again. Doing so would be like poking at a newly-healed wound."

Richie had a brief vision of sawing at a set of manacles that held Richie and Gear together. He banished it at once. "I won't."

"Good. Get some rest." Batman swept from the room.

Richie stood where he was for a moment, then retired to his bed. He slept soundly, and didn't remember his dreams in the morning.

----------------oOo-------------

After another uneventful patrol, Virgil slipped into his bedroom. Tomorrow was the lat day of school, and Virgil didn't much care if he slept though most of it. Patrolling alone again had awakened a hunger in him that he couldn't stand. _I can't call Rich; he needs his sleep after all that confusing stuff… but I can read his letter. _He stood by his bed for a moment. _Actually, it will kind of like reading it for the first time, because I don't remember anything he said._ Frowning, he tried to remember anything Richie had said, but after a moment he gave up. _What was on my mind the last time I read this? _He couldn't remember. _Well, at least I'm focused this time._

Virgil, now clad in only boxers and a tee-shirt, settled himself in bed and took the carefully-folded page from the drawer in his nightstand.

Dear Virg,June 12, 2003

I love you. I'm so blessed to be loved by you. The phone calls at night aren't long enough for me to be able to tell you everything, and I'm also afraid the wire is being tapped, so don't trust it. You deserve to know a few tings about me.

First, and most important, no matter what happens in the trial, no matter where they send me, I love you. I'm a little afraid- the whole long-distance thing is a curse- but we were friends before we were ever lovers, so I pray that will keep us together. I can't imagine being with anybody but you.

Okay, now that I sound like a soap opera sob story, moving on. You mentioned that no metahumans have been attacking in Dakota, that Static has been catching bank robbers and the like. Well, here's my theory on that. They might be planning something big. I know they've never seemed that organized before, but Ebon can be pretty convincing when he wants to be, and maybe he's finally fed up with Static. I hope Static thinks of this possibility. And you mentioned that Gear hasn't been seen lately. Maybe the Meta Breed is going to take advantage of that, thinking that Gear won't be there to have Static's back. I hope Gear comes back in time to help Static.

I'm so very homesick. I miss you like a spring misses flowers.

Again with the sob story. I must be turning into a bad-novel writer.

On again. I know I told you Dad was abusing me after the principal called me into his office, but I wanted to tell you that he's been doing it for as long as I can remember. Dad, I mean, not the principal. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before this. Can you ever forgive me?

Do I seem different? That might be because I am. I'm turning in a sappy-minded teen. But there's also a part of me- it almost feels like a separate half in my mind- that is analytical and wishes only to warn others about terrible things that might happen.

Love always,

Richie

Virgil put the page down and stared up at the ceiling. _What's wrong with this picture?_ He folded the letter carefully, then unfolded it, looking for an answer to the feeling of off-ness that was assailing him. _Something's wrong here. Why didn't I catch it the first time? What was wrong with me?_

He read the letter again, paying special attention those statements that struck him as off. _Richie sounds… unsure of himself. But not like when he's nervous about something. He sounds… weak. Or as if…_ Virgil struggled for a moment. _It's as if he's trying to put a false personality in this letter. Yes! That's it! This isn't my Richie talking._ He frowned. _Richie told me he was split in half. Could this be whatever half was the weaker one?_ Then he dismissed the notion. _I feel as if Richie is purposely putting a false front up, especially because some things sound just like him._

He scanned the letter, looking for those words and turns of phrase his mind told him were undeniably his Richie. _He's trying to warn me about Ebon and the rest of the meta bums without really warning me. That's Richie all over._

_The homesickness thing- Definitely not Richie. Even if he's homesick- and he probably is- he would never say it that way, with such falsely sincere poetry._

_He worked in a way to explain how I knew about his father abusing him. That discretion is Richie, and yet the bit immediately after, the- forgive me- blonde airheadedness is so far from Richie's it's like he borrowed somebody else's brain for that bit._

_And trust Richie to know I wouldn't get the act he was putting on immediately- he even wrote "Do I seem different? That might be because I am." The stuff he writes after that is not him, but his way of hitting me over the head with the obvious without seeming to is Richie all over._

_And last, but certainly not least, he was trying to tell me about how he's been split into Richie and Gear. All with the utmost care for… what? Was he trying to be subtle on my account? _Virgil had to laugh at himself. _Rich would never do that to me. No, he must have been doing the Jekyll-Hyde thing because he was worried about other people reading this. I don't what he was afraid of revealing, but I know he had a good reason. I hope I get a chance to talk to him away from everyone else soon. I hate having to hide everything. It's bad enough we have to hide our superhero identities. I don't like it that we have to hide stuff about our real identities from everyone._

-------------oOo-------------

Richie prayed before he entered the court room. He had asked to be left alone for a moment, and had been granted a little privacy. Jury selection hadn't involved him, and so this, the third day of the proceedings, was his actual first day. Nervousness chewed at him, as did a need to see Virgil. Batman had tried to pull strings, but Richie ended up with a young couple in a suburb of Dakota. It wasn't bad there; they left him alone mostly, and didn't object to anything he did. _But they wouldn't. All I do all day is sit in my room and either read my Bible or stare at the wall. I can't even write to V because it hurts too much. _He shook his head and added, _And it's frustrating having to act the ditz._

Richie closed his eyes and put all distracting thoughts out of his mind. _God, please give me strength for this trial. Please protect me from fear. Please take care of Virg. Let me see him today and let us have some time alone. He can give me Your strength just by holding me. Thank You for Virg. Amen._

"Are you ready?"

Richie's eyelids drifted open. After just recovering his peace of mind he wasn't about to let someone steal it by hurrying him along. He met the eyes of the prosecuting attorney. "Yes."

She smiled; it transformed her face and made her look almost gentle, almost inviting. "You'll be fine. We may not even get to the end of the opening statements today." Her smile vanished. "But if you do speak today, remember to answer each question concisely. We don't want to give the defense any weapons."

Richie nodded "Don't worry. I won't forget."

The smile was back, even if it was for the briefest moment. "Follow me."

-----------oOo-----------

"Please state your name for the court."

The prosecuting attorney's voice echoed in the room, and Richie called on his strength and courage to answer calmly, "Richard Osgood Foley."

"How are you related to the defendant?"

_This is just like answering questions in English about obvious plot twists and character traits. At least, it's like English since V's powers rubbed off on me. _"He's my father." _If it's just like that, why do I feel like my life hinges on these questions, simple though they are?_

"Do you know what he is being accused of?"

"Yes." _And yet, this is also like answering Mr. Lenning's questions; I need to be careful and concise in every answer I give._

"And what is that accusation?"

"He is being accused of physically abusing me, both at home and after a Ku Klux Klan meeting that occurred on June third of this year."

"Do you like being called Richie instead of Richard?"

_Okay, where'd that come from? _"Yes, ma'am."

Suddenly, her voice was that of a doting aunt. "Richie, how old are you?"

"Sixteen." _Is she doing this to make me seem young and so more vulnerable?_

"Does your father physically abuse you?"

Richie's stomach did a funny little flip. He had known, of course, that he would actually have to accuse his father directly. But it didn't make having to do it any easier. He felt like he was betraying his family, and that made him sick. "Yes."

"How long has he been abusing you?"

"For as long…" His mouth was dry. He swallowed, resisting the urge to clear his throat. That would make him seem nervous. Richie knew enough about trails to know that it was basically a question of his word against hi father's. _If I don't seem credible, and if I don't seem innocent and in need of protection, I could end up with him again. _That unstuck his voice. "For as long as I can remember."

"Who did you finally tell about the abuse?"

"Mr. Lenning. He's the principal of the high school I attend, Dakota Union High." _Just talk, Richie. Quit trying to think so hard._

"When did you tell him?"

"On June third."

"Why did you tell him?"

_When is this going to end?_ Richie resisted an increasingly-wrong urge to scan the courtroom for Virgil. _I can't seem unsure or nervous. _"He called me into his office and asked. Some of the teachers had noticed the bruises."

"Name the people you told about the abuse."

_That's a strange question. Ah, well. Deal with it and get it over. _"Mr. Lenning, Ms. Pettibone and V… er, Virgil Hawkins."

"Who is Ms. Pettibone?"

"My English teacher. She was in the office with Mr. Lenning when I was called."

"And Virgil Hawkins?"

_Boyfriend or best friend? _"He's… my boyfriend." _I might make some of the jurors uncomfortable, and that's not a good idea, but I don't want the defense attorney to catch me in a lie._

"Tell the court how your father has abused you in the past."

"Objection!" cried the defense attorney. "We are discussing only specific incidents, namely the bruises that were seen by Mr. Lenning, Ms. Pettibone, and the injuries seen by Static."

"Sustained," the judge answered. "Continue, please."

_Was that a blow to us? I can't tell. Where's my super brain when I need it?_

"Where were the bruises that Ms. Pettibone noticed?"

"I had a black eye and a bruise here." Richie touched the side of his neck, near his hair.

"Let the record show that the witness touched the left side of his neck just behind his ear," intoned the prosecuting attorney. "Where did those bruises come from Richie?"

"My father hit me the night before. June second, this was."

"Why did he hit you?"

"He was angry. I don't really know what I did to upset him."

"Do you usually know why he hits you?"

"Usually, yes. Before I started hiding my friendship with Virg… Virgil I knew I might get hit every time he saw us together. I had no way of knowing how long his tolerance of African-Americans would last."

"Let's leave this topic for a moment and talk about the KKK incident."

The questioning went on for close to an hour. By the end of it, Richie felt dirty, exhausted and in desperate need of some time alone with God and alone with Virgil.

Not necessarily in that order.

_But I can't have either, _Richie thought as the prosecuting attorney thanked him. _Now it's time for the cross-examination. God give me strength._

As the man stood, ready to deliver his barrage of questions, Richie snuck a peek at the courtroom. He saw Sharon, Mr. H… and Virgil, his eyes intense and his face worried and haggard. _V hasn't slept well recently. Well, maybe after this I'll get to see him. Maybe tonight we'll both be able to sleep better. _It was foolish, wishful thinking- Richie knew he would have to go home with the man and woman who were taking care of him- but that didn't stop the dream. Nevertheless, despite the fact that he might not get a chance to talk to Virgil, he was happy to see him. He relaxed slightly and felt as if he'd been given his second wind. _Thank you, Virg. Thanks, Lord. _

He turned his eyes back to the defense attorney as the man approached.

"Mr. Foley, please tell the court about late May of this year. Where were you?"

Richie vowed not to be put off by the question, but it was definitely one that wouldn't make him look like the perfect child. "I ran away for three days." _Too bad that's not what really happened._

"Why did you run away?"

_Good thing I thought about this beforehand. _"I wanted to confess my love to Virgil, but I lost my nerve and just wandered. I slept in two homeless shelters, thought about leaving for good so I wouldn't have to deal with my father, then decided to come back home. For one thing, if I didn't come home, Mom would have worried. For another, Virgil would have been angry with me for disappearing. And third, I do love my father, in spite of everything, and there was a part of me that didn't want him to worry."

"Did your father hit you when you returned?"

"Yes."

"Now, Mr. Foley, do you think that no parent should discipline his child?"

"Discipline is necessary; abuse is not."

"Who are you to draw the line between needed discipline and abuse?"

"I'm sixteen, old enough to think for myself, even if I am a minor. And, last time I checked, bruising _anyone,_ even if it's called discipline, is against the law in the United States."

"So you say every bruise you've ever had came from one of your father's beatings?"

"No. I've fallen. My phys ed teacher can attest to the fact that I am occasionally clumsy. "

"Are you saying that the sprained elbow you suffered when you were fourteen was a result of your father's abuse?"

"No. I was riding my scooter and lost control, skating into a pond." That was close enough to the truth to pass muster, but Richie couldn't help thinking of Slipstream, the Bang Baby who had picked him up like a piece and cotton and flung him into that pond.

"Then how are we to know the bruises you showed Mr. Lenning on June third were from your father? Perhaps you were just clumsy."

"First, you have my word. Second, on my neck, you could see the imprint of my father's knuckles on my skin."

"How can we know these bruises, especially the one on your neck, weren't caused by someone else? You boyfriend, Virgil, perhaps."

"First, Virgil and I weren't together yet. Second, Virgil would never hurt me." Richie could feel anger rising inside him like a black wave. He diverted it, letting it cover the fear that still bubbled inside him. _I must not lose my temper. I must not show my fear._

"Tell us about the alleged beating and June third. Did your father actually strike you?"

"No, but he-"

"No. Was he even present when the beating took place?"

"No, but-"

"No. It seems to me, Mr. Foley, that you can't prove that he has hurt you and the one time you were beaten, he wasn't there."

Richie gaped at him, stunned by how quickly things had turned in his father's favor. _What did I do wrong?_

The defense attorney turned to the judge. "No further questions, Your Honor."

The judge turned to Richie. "You may step down, Mr. Foley."

Richie felt sick, but he refused to show it. He also refused to look at his father, who seemed to be trying to catch his eye. He stepped away from the witness stand and a bailiff led him through a door into a small room. There, out of sight of everyone, Richie collapsed in a chair and closed his eyes. _I don't want to go back with him, God. If I have to, I swear I'll run away and never come back. Please keep me away from him. Please._

"Rich?"

The blonde's eyes flew open and he sat up straight. "V!"

Virgil was closing the door behind him. "The prosecuting attorney said we have five minutes. Then everybody has to go home for the day." He was at Richie's side then, and when Richie stood Virgil drew the other teen against his chest.

Richie leaned into the embrace, turning his head so he could touch Virgil's skin on his lips.

"That guy was a bastard," Virgil muttered, squeezing Richie. "Don't worry; after Static and I report everything that happened, he won't be allowed near you."

It was as if Virgil had read Richie's mind, and the blonde laughed. "How do you do that?"

Virgil held Richie at arm's length and cupped his boyfriend's cheek in his hand. "Do what?"

"Know exactly what's wrong with me and how to fix it?"

Virgil smiled. "There's nothing wrong with you, Rich; I just see what's wrong with the rest of the world and guess that it will affect you."

Richie blushed, his smile demure and his eyes hopeful. He pushed forward, seeking Virgil's lips.

The kiss was tentative on Virgil's part; he still didn't understand kissing completely. But he forgot any trepidation he might have had when Richie's tongue touched his lips. Virgil opened his mouth at once, instinctively, and when he felt Richie touch his tongue with his own, Virgil closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his lover.

They stayed that way for a few moments. At first, Richie was leading, but then Virgil tried that role on for size. When they drew apart a little, Virgil whispered, "When this trial is over, I want you to teach me how to kiss like that."

"You already know, Virg. You were just doing it."

"But I was only following you."

Richie whispered, his lips almost touching Virgil's ear, "It's only fair that you have to follow me in one thing. Gear always follows Static."

When Virgil answered, his lips barely moved. "I thought Gear only followed Static so he could study his ass."

Richie laughed and went pink to the tips of his ears. "I knew you were reading my mind."

The door opened and they broke apart. A young couple stood in the doorway, and Richie nodded to them. They smiled at Virgil, and the man said, his British accent changing his words ever so slightly, "Whenever you want to visit, Virgil, it's all right with us. Richie isn't allowed to be out and about after dark- police orders- but you can visit any time." He took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Virgil. "Here's our address and the buses to take to get there."

Virgil, surprised and overjoyed, took the paper and secreted it away in his pocket.

Richie was grinning. "Thank you."

The woman shook her head. "It's the least we can do. You've been through a lot; what kind of ogres would we be if we kept you away from the only person who seems to be able to comfort you?"

Richie looked at Virgil, and when Virgil drew him close, Richie closed his eyes.

"I love you, Richie. Please promise me you'll call if you need me."

"I will. Please tell BP I miss him."

"I will." Virgil kissed Richie's cheek. "And try to sleep tonight."

"I will." Richie hugged Virgil for another instant, then backed away. "Bye, V."

"Bye, Rich. I'll see you in the morning."

In the car, Richie said, "Thank you for not being angry. I don't know how most people are going to respond to Virg and me."

"It doesn't matter how most people react," the woman (Richie knew her name was Bernadette) told him. "All that matters is how much you and Virgil love each other."

_All that matters is that V and I love each other. If only that was really true. As much as I'd love to think our love will stand against everything, that doesn't mean other people won't do all they can to see our love fail. We have to be strong as well as in love._

-------oOo-----

Richie spread his legs, offering himself to the man above him. The lushly-appointed room was dimly lit, and Richie was glad. It was always easier to play the whore if you couldn't see who you were serving. Some of them were handsome and could almost turn him on, but far too many were not at all what would have attracted him in his old life.

The man above him was wheezing with effort as he positioned himself at Richie's entrance.

_He's got to be close to three hundred pounds,_ Richie thought, spreading his legs even wider._ I just hope he doesn't have a heart attack in the middle of this and fall on me. How many ribs would I break if he did? And how long would healing take me away from my job?_

The man impaled the skinny blonde before him, proving to Richie that, once again, he had been given to a man who knew more about stabbing food with a fork than lovemaking. _Not that I'm complaining. At least he isn't being purposely cruel. And I'm-_ he winced as the man's flabby hips ground against his own- _almost stretched enough to take him without pain._

A soft beeping drew Richie's attention and he turned his head. Backpack was sitting on a velvet upholstered chair, his sensor-eye focused on Richie.

"What are you-?" Richie began.

_Why are you dreaming of serving as a whore? _The robot asked.

As if Backpack's question had thrown a switch in Richie's mind, the man above him disappeared, as did the room around him. Richie found himself, now clothed, sitting on his bed back at his parents' house. _This is still a dream, _he thought, and glanced down, stilling his shaking hands. _As was that other. But it seemed so real…_

_Do you miss Virgil and are replacing him with other partners in your dreams? _Backpack hopped up onto the bed and settled himself beside Richie. He touched Richie's clasped hands. _You can wait for him, Richie. You don't need anyone else._

Richie groaned and stood, starting to pace. _Strange how everything feels so natural here. And that includes my movements. When I was little, all of my dreams made me feel like I was moving in molasses._

"Backpack, what's going on? I feel different."

Backpack answered in his mind, _Your dreams have changed slightly, Richie. Perhaps this will help you to feel as if you can fight them._

"What are you talking about?" Richie turned to his robot, one eyebrow raised.

_You have told me many times that you have felt powerless in your dreams and unable to move as you should. Now you will be able to fight in the dream-world just as well as you fight in the real one._

"But how am I able to move here? What's changed?"

_I know not, Richie._

Richie's skin prickled. _What is it about his voice or his words? What is it? What makes me feel so…_

_Am I hurting you, Richie? If so, I will withdraw. But I am here to help you, and I don't wish to leave until I know that you are well._

_He can hear me. _Richie focused as hard as he could at pushing Backpack out. He desperately wanted to be able to think without being spied upon. _Damn it, this is what I was worried about. I'm not alone in my own mind!_ He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to build a wall akin to that which had imprisoned the Gear half of himself. But this wall wouldn't keep him in; it would keep others out.

Pain began to build behind his eyes and at his temples. Richie moaned, but still struggled with the wall.

_Richie, what are you… Richie… I'm only here t-_

Richie's eyes snapped open. At first, he didn't recognize his shadowy surroundings. _Wait. I'm in Charles' and Bernadette's house. This is the room they cleaned out for me. _He closed his eyes, searching within himself for that other presence. When he didn't find it after nearly a minute of seeking, he opened his eyes once more. Letting out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, Richie sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. _What the hell was that?_

Squinting, Richie turned the light on beside his bed. After his eyes had adjusted, he grabbed the notepad off his nightstand. He had been keeping something to scribble down ideas by his bed since he started working as Static's sidekick, because sometimes the best ideas came at two o'clock in the morning. _I thought of the right metal to use for V's Static Saucer at 3:46 one morning._

Turning his mind back to the dream/vision/whatever he'd just had, Richie began to scribble down the details as quickly as he could, not wanting to forget a single one. When it was done, Richie read it over twice to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

_All right, let's take this apart. First, the dream about being a whore… and if I didn't like it, at least I was comfortable there and knew my place. _As distasteful as the feelings were, Richie couldn't deny them; he didn't even try. _The sooner I figure this out, the sooner I can start controlling my dreams._

He turned his mind to Backpack, thinking, _He's been in two of my dreams lately. The first time, I felt like a whore. The second time, I _was_ a whore? Coincidence? Possible, but very unlikely. As that guy we read about in English said, "Never in life."_

_Another connection between the two dreams is that as soon as he left I felt normal again. And it seems less and less likely that I'm making him up along with the rest of the dream. Didn't he say something about building something that could reach me?_

Richie shook his head, forcing himself to admit what frightened him. _The way he connected us… The only time either of us saw technology like that was when I was with Brainiac. Could BP have kept the schematic for the linking microchip hidden in his system? Anything's possible. _Taking several deep breaths, Richie slowed his racing heart. _But to reach me, Backpack would have to build the microchip and implant it in my head. He hasn't been near me. So, these dreams can't be his fault._

_Right?_

_Right. If they were his fault, I would know. But… but that feeling of slimy arousal… _Richie wrapped his arms around himself, resisting the temptation to rock. _Am I supposed to believe that it was completely my own memory making me feel that way? That my mind created everything that happened. I won't believe that. As impossible as the connection should be, I think it really exists. That's not logic but intuition talking, but I trust it._

_So, if Backpack can reach me, talk to me, is he listening right now? _Richie bit his lip. _No. I don't feel his presence. I'm pretty sure I'm alone in my mind. _

_Okay, this much is established: I can't trust my dreams from now on. Because they feel too real._ Richie's breath caught. _They feel like the nightmares Brainiac sent me. They feel real. _

He almost panicked, but forced himself to think clearly. _Okay, I know the feeling. I've felt it before. I recognize it. What do I do? I need help. And I can't ask V. I still need him to watch Backpack and tell me what he observes. I'll ask him about that tomorrow. Who else can I go to?_

At once, Batman came to mind. _But how do I reach him? I'm not even in Gotham anymore. And I can't ask Backpack to contact him. How can I reach him? _Richie chewed that problem as the east lightened. By the time he woke up, he had decided to ask Virgil to bring him his Shock Vox. _If I have it, not only will I be able to talk to V, but I'll be able to rewire it to contact the Justice League. _His photographic memory showed him the communications signal he'd used to reach the Justice League while he and Virgil were busy running away from Brainiac in the Watchtower. _Once I do that, they'll tell me how to get in touch with Batman_.

--------------oOo--------------

"Please state your name for the court."

"Virgil Hawkins." _Richie's brave. I can barely sit still up here and it's not even _my_ father on trial._ He looked at the prosecuting attorney. _And she's not the most inviting-looking person I've ever met. Between a furious Sharon and this lady, I'd choose Sharon._

"How do you know the defendant?"

_He's Richie's bastard father. Haven't we already established that? _"Richie invited me over for the night when we were fourteen. I met his father just before dinner."

"What was your first impression of Mr. Foley?"

_Too bad I can't give a better testimony. I'd love to say he seemed mean or at least harsh from the first. _"He seemed to be a hard-working man who didn't like to drive in heavy traffic."

There was laughter from the jurors. Virgil, remembering that terrible night, the discomfort at the dinner table, Richie's fear and nervousness when the two of them were alone in the blonde's room, couldn't even smile. But he did think, _If they're laughing, maybe they like me. And if they like me, maybe they'll believe me. It's a start._

"Did your impression of him change that day?"

"Yes. I was walking the bathroom after dinner to brush my teeth before bed and I heard Mr. and Mrs. Foley talking."

"And what did they say?"

"Mr. Foley said, 'It's bad enough I have to deal with them all day. Now one of them's in my house. Mrs. Foley asked him to keep his voice down. Then Mr. Foley said, 'Now I know why Richie acts like a hood, Maggie. That kid's a bad influence. All his kind are.'" Virgil could feel his blood boiling all over again, but he kept his face impassive. At least that's what he hoped he was doing. _I won't ruin this for Rich. I won't._

"And what did you think?"

"I was hurt, but I was more shocked. I hadn't known that Richie was dealing with something that wack."

"What did you do?"

_Do I have to tell this part? It's one of the moments I'll probably have to tell God about when I die. _Virgil looked down at his hands. "I left. I was angry, but I also didn't want to cause any problems between Richie and his parents."

"That day, when you learned that Mr. Foley was racist, did you know he was abusing Richie?"

"No. After a little disagreement at dinner over a hip hop CD I brought, Richie said, 'My father sometimes… you know… I'm so embarrassed.' He never gave any hint that his father was hurting him. He acted like most teenagers: nervous about introducing their friends to their parents."

"When did you first learn that Richie's father was abusing him?"

"On June third. He told me after he told Mr. Lenning."

"Did you have any idea that he was being abused?"

"Objection!" The defense attorney again.

_He may just be doing his job, but I don't like him anyway, _Virgil thought. _He messed with Richie, and now he's messing with me._

"Mr. Hawkins has already stated that he didn't have any idea that Richie had bruises."

"I saw the bruises," Virgil answered before anyone else could speak.

"Order, Mr. Hawkins," said the judge, and Virgil shut his mouth. To the prosecuting attorney, he said, "Proceed."

"Please restate your answer, Virgil."

"I saw the bruises. I just didn't know what they were from. And when I tried to talk to Richie about them, he wouldn't tell me. Richie has always hidden his personal pain, and I was more concerned with keeping our friendship, making sure I was there for him when he needed me, than getting answers. I would've never known his father was racist if I hadn't heard it for myself. In many ways, Richie's a very private person. So, on the morning of June third, when I saw his black eye and the knuckle-marks on his neck, I asked him, but I would never press him. He told me when he was ready. Our friendship has always been like that."

"Tell me about the night of June third."

"I didn't know anything was wrong until the hospital called. I was having trouble sleeping that night, and I was worried about Richie, but that's normal."

"Explain."

"Well…" Okay, how do I explain worrying about him without telling about his time with Brainiac? "When Richie ran away in May, he didn't tell me why, but it made the second time he'd run away in about two years. I knew he and his father didn't get along- the whole racism thing- and sometimes I felt like all that was keeping him home was his belief that he would graduate in a little over two years and get out of his parents' house. So I worried about him, sometimes more than others. I don't have ESP or anything, but remember that I'd declared my love to Richie two days ago, and so maybe that made me worry about what he was dealing with more than ever. But I didn't really know something was going to happen. I had no clue his father was involved with the KKK until Richie told me."

"What did the hospital say when they called?"

"I was still asleep, and so they talked to my sister, Sharon. They told her that Richie had been brought in by Static early that morning. Richie had been attacked he needed to stay in the hospital for a few days. But they said he should be okay."

"You said that Richie told you about his father's involvement in the KKK. When did he tell you?"

"Rich explained everything in a letter he wrote me after he'd been sent to live in Gotham for a few days."

"This question is a little personal, but indulge me. How long have you known Richie?"

_That's nothing compared to what you could have asked. For instance, 'Have you kissed him?' _"Eight years."

"How long have you been dating."

_Okay, getting a little closer to home, but not too close. _"We haven't had a real date yet, but we confessed our love on June first."

"Have you seen Richie with his shirt off?"

_Closer still. I don't like this. _Virgil resisted the urge to squirm. _What does this have to do with the trail, anyway?_ "You mean, since June first?"

"Yes."

"No." Virgil's face was hot and he resisted the temptation to rub the back of his head.

"So you don't know that he has several faint bruises on his ribs?"

"No."

"Do you have any idea where they came from? Did Richie say anything about being punched as well as beaten?"

"No." _But I know where they're from. I saw them when the J league was healing Richie after his imprisonment inside Brainiac. The bruises were so black they looked like dark-ink tattoos. Batman thought Richie must have been thrashing around inside Brainiac. And after reading about the nightmares, I understand why he was so bruised. He must have been fighting while he dreamed._

"No further questions. Thank you, Virgil."

Before the teen could answer, the defense attorney approached the stand.

"Do you have any proof that Mr. Foley abused his son?"

"I have Richie's word, and I know Mr. Foley would do almost anything to teach Richie to hate other races. Maybe he thought he could scare Richie into staying away from me."

"So you believe Mr. Foley abused him, but you've never seen my client raise a hand to his son. Is that correct?"

"I don't think Mr. Foley would want anybody to know he was abusing Richie. That's probably why he usually gave him bruises that could be hidden by his clothes."

"Answer the question."

Virgil sighed. "Yes, it's true."

"No further-"

Mindful of the judge's rebuke a few minutes ago, Virgil asked, "May I say something, Your Honor?"

The two attorneys approached the bench and held a whispered conversation with the judge. At least, they back away.

"Proceed," the judge said.

"Disciplining a son or daughter isn't wrong. Without limits, every child or teen would end up spoiled, unsure or just plain messed up in the head. There's a difference between discipline and abuse, though. I've known Richie for eight years. He hid his father's abuse out of desperation. But he hid nothing else from me. During the week, he goes to school, we walk halfway home together, we spend a few hours at home, then we meet to either hang our or do homework. On weekends, we visit comic shops and hang out at the mall. What in all of those activities did Richie do wrong? What did he do that was bad enough to deserve abuse?"

There was a brief silence, then the judge said, "You may step down. I declare a recess until after lunch."

---------oOo---------

Virgil didn't even bother to eat. He slipped out of the building, found a good place to change, and donned his Static costume. _If they knew that they were talking to the same person twice, maybe they wouldn't have to call me up again. I hope I get through this second round without making a fool of myself or letting anything important slip._

-------oOo------

The questioning by the prosecuting attorney was easy. Virgil was dreading the cross-examination, but he was determined not to show how tense he felt. _I've already convinced them, with no problem that there's no connection between Virgil Hawkins and Static Shock. One more little talk and I'll be done._ He hid his smile. _And of course I was able to say my piece this time before the defense attorney could jump in. I told them all, "I just want to make sure that the court does right by Richie." Like I didn't really know him, but like it was my job to worry about other people. Then I said, just to make the jury think, "Nobody should have to live in a place where they're scared that someone will hurt them."_

"That's quite a noble statement, Static," said the defense attorney, bringing an end to Virgil's basking, "but tell us something. Why should we believe anything you say? You aren't, after all, being completely honest with us."

_It starts. _Virgil grinned inwardly at the _Lion King _reference and remembered when he and Richie had watched the movie for the first time. They'd played Simba versus Scar for weeks after. The memory strengthened him. "When exactly did I lie?"

"You left out certain information about the fight between yourself and the two white-robed men in the hospital. One of them was Mr. Foley, correct?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Foley was well within his rights to visit his son, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but his partner was carrying a gun. Are you suggesting I should have let them approach Richie armed?"

"Why didn't you mention the gun in your testimony?"

_Shit. _"It slipped my mind. I was thinking more of Mr. Foley and the way he spoke of reaching his son. He seemed slightly mad. I apologize for my oversight." He found himself thinking of something Richie had said once. _Very smooth, V-Man. _He met the attorney's gaze, thinking, _I can't make any more mistakes. Every mistake I make costs Richie one more chance at safety._

"Indeed. Answer me this: why should we trust you when we don't even really know you?"

_Now _this_ I can answer. _Static touched his mask. "I wear this for my protection. I have protected Dakota for over two years. Please grant me a little protection for myself, my family and my friends." He smiled, that megawatt smile that had charmed so many people. "And you know me better than you know Mr. Foley. I am what you see: a superhero for Dakota who only wants to help.'

The defense attorney was silent for a moment, then he turned to walk back to his seat. Halfway there, he glanced over his shoulder. "Let I remind the jury that this self-proclaimed superhero is number one a teenager and number two guilty of lying under oath. His name is not really Static." He allowed the silence to underline his words before stating, "No further questions."

At the table where he had sat for the better part of two days, Sean Foley folded his hands and smiled. _They won't get you, Richie. I won't let them pollute your mind anymore. You are my son, and it falls to me to show you the way of the world._

----------oOo------------

"Can I see you tonight? Will your pops let you visit? It doesn't have to be for the whole night, but I need to talk to you….Mmmmmm... V, that feels good, but I can barely think when you're doing that."

Virgil stopped massaging Richie's tense shoulders for a moment, leaned forward and kissed Richie's ear from behind. "I'll ask him. And if I can't, I'll make sure somebody else visits you. Just to check on you, you know."

Richie grinned. "Aren't you worried that I'll find Static sexier than you?"

"He may look better in that mask, but I look better when all my clothes are off."

Richie snickered and spun around, capturing Virgil's lips in his. When he was sure Virgil would be left gasping for a moment, he pulled back and said, "Don't speak such blasphemy. Static is every girl's dream date. Are you saying that you're hotter than Static?"

"Much." Virgil drew Richie against him, but didn't kiss him.

The door to the little room opened and Bernadette poked her head in. "Richie, it's time to go."

Richie turned towards her, interlacing his fingers with Virgil's. "Is it okay if V comes over for dinner? He won't stay late."

"He can spend the night if he wants, but whatever rules his or your… mother… had about one of you spending the night at the other's house still apply."

"Guess that means I'll be on the couch," Virgil said. He smiled. "Should I bring a blanket or something?"

"Oh, we have plenty of extras." She smiled. "if you can't come, just call. Did Richie give you our number?"

Virgil nodded.

Richie turned to Virgil and the two of them held each other. "V, bring our walkie-talkies tonight," Richie said, trying to sound casual. I want to test them out away from all the power lines and tall buildings."

Virgil blinked, but nodded. _Now, what's he up to?_ "Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can, Rich." He gave Richie an extra-tight squeeze.

"Give this to our friend, will you?" Richie put the note in Virgil's hand. "I know he has some trouble reading, but if he takes it slow, he'll be okay."

Virgil glanced down at the folded paper. BP was written on it. He nodded. "I will. I love you."

Richie's face lit with an uncomplicated smile. "Love you, too."

oOo

**Author's Note:** In part two: finally some V/R time!

**Ruesen:** I'm flattered, and I'm so glad you're sticking with this. About Reverend Ovid: I knew a pastor like him, named Reverend Michael. I'm not sure what Pastor Michael would have thought of Virgil and Richie being together, but I like to think he might have reacted this way.

**Chaosdreamer:** First, a question: Did Backpack really seal Gear away? And if so, did he do it on purpose? I'm genuinely curious about what you think, because I'm still not sure. Maybe BP talked to you even when he's not talking to me much. Second, I've loved Batman for a long time, so I've enjoyed putting him in here. Third, what are these fics you've mentioned? (Weiss Kreuz and Rurouni Kenshin) What universe are they?

**leev:** Thank you for the glowing review. I'm worried about BP, too. He hasn't been talking to me much lately, so I don't have any idea what he's planning. The only thing I'm sure of is that he loves Richie, but as to what that will lead him to...

**BH:** That makes two of us: I'm glad Richie and Gear are back together. Richie needed Gear before, but now he's fine on his own. And stronger for everything he went through. Unfortunately (for him) or fortunately (for us) this is far from over. I tried to catch the typos this time. Let me know how I did. And about Christianity: I'm glad to be able to show both sides of it in one fic. Finally, I know I haven't answered the question of whether Backpack is really in Richie's mind or not, but I'll let everyone else know when Backpack tells me.

**jack:** The V/R goodness should (I hope) be in the next chapter. But as for V/R/F… it's still a few chapters away. It's coming, though; never fear.


	4. The Trial, Part Two

**A/N 1:** As promised, V/R time! And more time with Hotstreak, too, though he was less willing to discuss all his ulterior motives with me.

**A/N 2: **Ha! 23 pages! A little over twenty, but not too bad. And maybe less typos this time, too. I actually read through a lot of it instead of just trusting to spell-check.

**Fresh Warnings:** a little more language (Hotstreak) but nothing I'd call serious, and now we get into a little less innocence with Virgil and Richie. And I mean only a little less.

Chapter Three: Around Sunset and Gear Runs InterferencePg. 68

aka The Trial, Part, Two

Chapter Three: Around Sunset and Gear Runs Interference

aka The Trial, Part Two

"Thanks for driving me, Pops," Virgil said, leaning forward from the backseat.

"Sit back, Virgil. I can't say I'm not curious about these people that took Richie in." Robert smiled. "Besides, I miss seeing him, too."

"What, he didn't spend enough time at our house?" Sharon asked.

"Then why are you coming?" Virgil asked.

"Big sister privilege."

"You miss him, too. Admit it."

"I miss Nerd Boy about as much as I miss you dissing my cooking."

"All right you two, settle down."

"Sorry, Pops."

"Sorry, Daddy."

Robert was frowning. "Sharon, check the map, would you? The house should be right around here, but-"

"Hi, Mr. H!"

Robert hit the brakes and they were all thrown forward a little/ Then he spotted Richie on the sidewalk. He called out the open window, "Richie, don't you know enough not to scare people when they're driving?"

"I thought you saw me." Richie looked chastened and apologetic, which wasn't what Robert had wanted to see. Usually Richie would have grinned and agreed and been untroubled.

"It's all right," Robert said quickly, smiling at his son's boyfriend. _My son in all but blood._ "Where are we going?"

"Two blocks further down. The community here got together a week ago and switched street names. It's confusing the mailman, the garbage men and just about everybody else."

"Hop in and point the way."

Richie, his face lit from within, slipped into the backseat. At once, Virgil took his hand. "Go straight, Mr. H."

"Can a bunch of people really just choose when they want to change street names?" Virgil asked. "And how do they agree, anyway?"

"It's by popular vote," Richie answered. "And things are a little different out in the suburbs." He laughed. "They're not governed by so many rules. But I think this place is a little different from other suburbs, too. This section of town is called "Individual's Circle" and to live here you have to prove that you're open to changes and ready to explore things as a community. Everybody knows everybody else's business, but here that's a good thing. They help each other." He added softly, looking down, "I'd like to live in a place like this someday. I've been kind of adopted by the whole community. They leave me be when I want to be alone, but… I don't really want to be alone most of the time." He had gone pink.

Virgil glossed over the uncomfortable silence. "You like it here, Rich. There's nothing wrong with that." He squeezed his boyfriend's hand.

Richie smiled, looking up at Virgil through his lashes. Then he glanced out the window, forgetting his embarrassment. "Turn here, Mr. H. It's the third house on the left."

-------oOo------

Hotstreak lifted the squirming nerd until the teen's heels were kicking a foot off the ground. "What do you mean Foley hasn't been in school?" Summer vacation had started, and it had taken Hotstreak more time than he wanted to spend to find someone who went to Dakota Union High and was close enough to Virgil or Richie to know what was going on.

"M-my dad found out that he was being abused by his father."

Hotstreak scowled. "Who's your father, and what does he have to do with this?"

"He's the pri-principal."

Hotstreak considered his options. If Foley hadn't been in school, where was he? What would police do with a kid who wasn't safe in his own house? _They must have put him in foster care until they figure out if it's really his father who's been hurting him. Of course, up until recently, I would've said it was all Foley's night-gigs as Gear that were giving him bruises. But he hasn't been in costume lately. _He thought of the KKK members he'd seen at the hospital. _They were after Foley. I heard one of them say as much. Is his father a member of that ass-wipe bunch of idiots?_

Dropping the kid, Hotstreak snapped, "Get outta here before I make myself some nerd nachos for lunch." He lit his fists to give the geek a hint. The teen scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as could. Hotstreak watched him until he was out of sight, then started walking in the other direction. _If there's anything that annoys me more than Static, it's a bunch of wussy men trying to act like they're all that. Only good guys hide their faces. Any ass-wipe that wants to hide his face is just a coward. And don't' they know they'll be recognized? I mean, if I was going to wear a mask, I'd wear something that would scare other people, but that they couldn't connect to a certain group. _Hotstreak had never understood gang colors. _I don't care if I'm connected with some really big names, but I don't have to show that I'm one them. I don't belong to anybody._

Well, at least the geek had answered why Hotstreak hadn't seen Foley around, either at the school or around Virgil's favorite hang-outs. _I've followed Virgil enough times to know where he goes and what he does every day. Except he hasn't been in those places, either. Maybe he's wherever Foley is. _

Shaking his head, Hotstreak walked on. _Why am I even stressing about this? I don't care where Foley is! And as for Virgil… Well, Static hasn't been causing any problems for me lately, so that's not my problem either._

But he couldn't leave well enough alone. There were questions that needed to be answered before Hotstreak could be completely sure he had his insurance against Ebon. _Yeah, I know who Gear is. And face it, that's all Ebon cares about. He wants Static dead, but having Richie/Gear'd make his day. No, I want to know about Foley and Virgil for my own enjoyment. I wonder if Virgil has naked pictures of Foley. Maybe I could see those to Ebon. They've gotta be worth a few stolen things, at least._

He wandered in the general direction of Virgil's house, still mulling over what he might find hidden in the teen's room.

"The poor little lamb is just lost, Sean. You'll have to be patient."

Hotstreak stopped where he was. The two men were walking a little ahead of him. The one who'd spoken… _I know that voice. That's the guy who wanted to know where Foley's room was at the hospital._ He ducked behind a bush and watched the two men walk a little further. Making sure to stick close to them, _my curiosity will kill me someday, _Hotstreak listened intently.

"He's being poisoned by those hippie parents of his. They're almost as bad as the n---s. I need to help him before he doesn't remember any of the truth!"

"You're winning in court; all my contacts say so. Don't worry; we always help our own. Richard won't be left with the wolves much longer."

"I swear… Sometimes I think he loves that Hawkins pup more than he loves his own family."

"For teenagers, the attractions of the flesh are especially hard to ignore."

Sean dropped his voice so Hotstreak had to creep closer. And still the two men didn't notice him. Hotstreak wondered if he had ever been this stupid and nonobservant of the world around him. Sean asked, "Do you think my son is really gay?"

"Not for a moment. Surely the boy who has ensnared him raped him and tricked him into thinking that he liked it. His kind is full of tricks. How do you think most of the white women get raped by n----- men? It's not because the women aren't smart. It's because the animals are cunning. They can be cunning without being intelligent. And of course they have help from down below."

Hotstreak wanted to laugh. _If you're so intelligent and amazing, how come I know I could kick your asses, even without my powers? Ebon could kick your asses. Hell, Shiv could kick your asses, and he's little more than a functioning moron._

"I'm glad to hear you say that. I've been so worried about him."

"When this is all over, we'll take Richie to our rehabilitation center. There he will be cleansed, healed and treated. Soon he will forget any false feelings that n--- instilled in him." The man clapped Sean Foley on the shoulder. "All is not lost, my brother."

Hotstreak was frowning. _They're going to take Foley somewhere? But then he won't be part of my plan anymore! _His frown deepened to a scowl. _I'm not going to let them mess with my plan._

"Would you come in for some coffee?" Sean was asking, and only then did Hotstreak realize that they had reached the blonde teen's house.

"I would love some. Let me say, Sean, you are handling this-"

The front door closed, but Hotstreak didn't care to hear the rest of it. _I need pictures to tempt Ebon. _He skirted around the side of the house, searching out an open window. He saw one on the second floor and used a tiny flame burst to push him upwards. He caught the windowsill, swung up and climbed in. Once inside, he glanced out to make sure no one had noticed him. The street was deserted. Good.

Hotstreak turned, thinking, _I'll have to search for Foley's room. _But then he grinned. What were the chances that he would swing right into the place he wanted?

There was no question whose room it was. The mess on the floor told him more than the computer on its desk or the blueprint tacked up on the wall. Every inch of floor space was littered with ripped or shredded bits of paper. Before he bent down to examine them closely, Hotstreak saw at least three pictures of Richie and Virgil. But none of them were whole, or even close to it.

Hotstreak grabbed a handful of refuse and sat on the bed. He sifted through it, at first looking for an arousing picture of Foley. Soon he discovered that he would be lucky to find a picture that had Richie's whole face intact. And all the while he sorted and tossed things to the side, he listened to the rumbling laughter and conversation from downstairs.

He poured through a mauled photo album, noting that the pictures of Richie's parents hadn't been touched. But those that had Richie in them had been desecrated with a black pen and water, or, just possibly, something nastier. A picture of Virgil had been stuck through with a sharp, narrow piece of wood. Hotstreak removed the splinter and gazed at the ruined picture for a moment. Virgil was holding up one of Richie's green-and-orange pullovers, and his eyes were laughing. The picture made Hotstreak wonder what Foley wore under that hoodie. He knew the teen wore at least a T-shirt, but he found himself wondering if Richie had been wearing anything in that picture. _How long were they dating when this picture was taken? Were they even dating yet?_ Hotstreak shook his head and tossed the picture on the bed, but his mind was with it long after he'd put the album down and picked up a clump of newspapers. A headline caught his eye and he pulled the page away from the others.

Static's New Partner: Gizmo!

Hotstreak snorted, even more so when he saw the rude message someone had written across the story. It read: _His name is Gear! Gear, damn it! What's so hard about that? Someday I'll get a match and burn this piece of garbage._ Then, a little further down and in a different color of ink, _No I won't. V was trying to get me to laugh at myself and the stupidity of some people. Besides, since V's ego gets hurt easily, I have to be the mature one. The eternal job of the sidekick._

Hotstreak thought, _Well, now I get why he's pissed. He's Gear and hates it that the papers screwed up his name. Maybe I'll call him Gizmo next time I see him, see if he loses his cool. _He frowned and read the scrawled rant again. _V's Virgil; that's obvious. And that stuff about a sidekick… I'll bet all my power that Virgil's Static. It would make perfect sense._

Completely convinced now that he was right, Hotstreak went back to riffling through Richie's things. He found a ripped photograph buried under a mound of shredded newspaper. He gaped at the picture, so shocked he had to laugh at himself. _Who would have ever thought that neat-as-a-pin Foley would look like that? _Richie was almost unrecognizable under the coat of cream pie filling. Hotstreak only knew him because of his sticking-up blonde hair and his green and orange pullover. Virgil was beside him, similarly covered, but Hotstreak didn't pay him much attention. _This picture won't arouse Ebon, but I think I'll keep it just for laughs. _He stuffed the picture in his pocket.

As Hotstreak continued to wade through the disaster on the floor, casting more and more aside, and finding less and less to smile at as he grew frustrated, the voices that drifted up to him faded. Hotstreak heard the front door close. He crept to the window, and watched the two men he'd followed leaving. Shaking his head, Hotstreak went back to his appointed task. _If I don't find anything in the next pile, I'll go, _he said. But he kept saying it and could never quite bring himself to leave. A tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered, _There has to be something. There has to be a flattering picture of Foley that Ebon will drool over. There just has to be._

When the sun was little more than a hand's breadth above the horizon, Hotstreak found what he'd been searching for.

He'd seen a white bit of garbage sticking out from under the bed. He was about to kick it when he saw handwriting on it. Curiosity, ever his greatest enemy and definitely more undermining and exhausting than Static, shouted at him not to leave it. Hotstreak groaned and picked up the scrap. In what he now recognized as Richie's handwriting, printed semi-neatly in one corner, was this disturbing message: _In case I ever need proof. March 21st, 2003_

Hotstreak scratched his head. _Proof of what? _He flipped over the scrap of paper, and his breath stuck in his throat. He was holding a picture. A full-length picture. A half-naked picture. Richie was looking over his shoulder at the camera. His face was puffy and blood trickled from his nose. He was shirtless. Crisscrossing his back were angry welts and more than a few bruises, both recently gotten and fading. The look was both ashamed (he was biting his lip) and resolute (his fists were clenched).

_Jackpot! _But the accompanying rush of triumph and accomplishment didn't come. Hotstreak stared at the picture and almost tossed it back on the floor. This picture, unlike the others, was completely intact except for a torn corner. Surely whoever had destroyed the rest of Richie's life hadn't noticed this picture. _I don't need this thing. I can just take the pie one and…_

_And show that to Ebon? Ha! Not even Ebon's that deviant. This jewel in your hand will arouse him. That other is just for your amusement, remember?_

_Yeah, yeah, but-_

_Don't go soft, Francis. You'll be dead in a year if you do and you know it._

Hotstreak forced himself to put the picture in his pocket. He stood and kicked some of the scraps on the floor. Damn it. What did he have to start second-guessing himself? _I came here to find something. Well, I found it. I have my ace in the hole. Why'm I frickin' belly-aching? Now I don't have to break into Virgil's._

He went to the window and put his hand on the sill. Glancing over his shoulder, he thought at the depressing little room, _Somebody screwed him over. Maybe he's tougher than he looks to have survived that._ Then he called himself a wuss and jumped out the window.

----------oOo----------

_I'm not ready to talk about Backpack yet. I just want a little time away from the world. I want a little time that's just for Virg and me._

Richie led Virgil into the woods. "We can't go far," he said, "but we don't have to." He pointed up, and Virgil followed his finger, his eyes widening as he took in the tree house. "Welcome to the Tree House of Solitude," Richie whispered, his eyes nearly radiant in the dying daylight. Without waiting for a comment, Richie caught Virgil's hand and led him to the tree's base. "After you."

Virgil grinned. "Beautiful ones first." He nudged Richie and when the blushing blonde started to climb Virgil gave him the lightest of pats where the patting was good. Virgil was holding his breath, not wanting to scare Richie, but taking his father's words to heart. _I need to treat him now like I want to treat him ten years from now._

Richie froze for an instant, then threw his head back and laughed. After a moment, he resumed climbing. "Aren't superheroes supposed to set a good example?" he called over his shoulder as he gained the first platform and started up to the second. "Careful, or I'll report you to Batman for sexually harassing your partner."

Vigil pulled himself swiftly up the wooden rungs of the ladder. "It isn't harassment if we both love each other, and if we both like it. I don't think you have a leg to stand on, Rich." He gained the second platform and joined Richie at its center. He urged Richie to sit between his legs and lean back. Virgil set himself against the tree trunk and wrapped his arms around Richie's waist, leaving the other teen's arms free.

Richie sighed, closed his eyes and relaxed against Virgil. "I guess you're right. Good thing I'm not the lawsuit-filing type." He smiled wanly, his lips quirking up at the corners. "Besides, we're sort of in the middle of something."

He meant the trial, and Virgil knew he meant the trial, but Virgil's mind went other places. Grinning, he laid his head on Richie's shoulder. "Yes we are." His hands began to move, caressing Richie's stomach, his chest, his arms, his hands which lay in his lap, crossed at the wrists just below his groin.

As Virgil's hands began to drift over Richie's stomach once more, Richie sighed again and arched his back, increasing the contact between his midsection and Virgil's hands. "Mmmm, V…"

Virgil ducked his head and placed gentle kissed along Richie's jaw and down his neck. One hand slipped upwards, feather-touching Richie's arm, his shoulder, his cheek. Deftly, Virgil removed Richie's glasses. "Lean forward a little."

Richie obeyed, even though he didn't want to lose the close contact. But the moment Virgil's hands closed around his shoulders and the other teen's fingers dug into the blonde's muscles, easing their tension, Richie melted. "Uhnnmmmm….."

"I just love it when the genius sounds like one of us normal people. Inarticulate and not caring how coherent he sounds."

Richie was too far gone in pleasure care much about what Virgil was saying, but his mind caught he words, and so he had to take part in the banter. "You're far from normal," Richie tried to say, but he was dazed, so that what Virgil heard was closer to "erarfumormal."

"I love you, Richie." Virgil settled into a slow rhythm, deep and powerful as a narrow-banked river. As his hands learned his lover's muscles, they moved both slower and yet deeper. His mind slowed too, focusing on his breathing, on Richie's breathing, on the almost rough weave of Richie's shirt. He lost himself to his senses, fusing with Richie in a fundamental way that had more to do with sharing thoughts than touches.

"Richie! Virgil! It's time for dinner!"

Richie groaned and twisted at the waist, catching Virgil by surprise. His right arm encircled Virgil's waist and he cupped the back of his boyfriend's head with the other hand. Virgil met him halfway, and this time Virgil's kiss was scarcely tentative. There was a part of him that still held back, but most of his mind was taken up with the scent and taste of Richie.

Richie broke away first. "Come on. We have to go." He was blushing ever so slightly in the westering light. "Maybe we can come back later."

As they climbed down, though, Richie knew his time with Virgil, when it was just the two of them, hidden from the rest of the world, was over, at lest for a while. _I need to tell him everything. We might not get another chance to talk. And there are things I have to know._

----------oOo----------

Bernadette laughed at Virgil's unfeigned (and unrestrained) enthusiasm for her cooking. "It's good to know Richie wasn't just being polite," she said as Virgil finished off his second bowl of soup.

Richie passed Virgil a large wooden bowl filled with the strangest salad Virgil had ever seen. The look in the blonde's eye was decidedly teasing. "Try this, V. It has nuts."

Virgil took a little to be polite, all the while thinking, _I'll get you for this, Rich. You're just trying to make me look uncomfortable and you're distracting me from the really great food. _To say that Virgil hated salads- rabbit food, he called them- was akin to calling the Grand Canyon a hole in the ground. _And you can rub that knowing look off your face,_ he thought at Richie, _or I'm going to ask Mrs. Crane if she has any salmon in the house and watch you gag. _Virgil, realizing he was stalling, turned away from Richie. _Well, at least it's a small salad._

His first bite, hardly more than a leaf or two garnished with a nut Virgil didn't recognize, made him forget all this mock anger. The tangy, sour, about cutting taste drove him to inhale the new delicacy. Only when he at last looked up did he realize Richie was watching him with a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Virgil stuck his tongue out at the blonde before remembering where he was and who was watching. His face grew hot with embarrassment. _Okay, Rich, now I'm really going to get you for this._

John shared a smile with his wife, then said, "We don't stand much on ceremony here, Virgil."

Virgil smiled at them, then looked back at Richie. The blonde was eating steadily. _Okay, fine, I won't be mad at you. But you were lucky this time._

After dinner, Virgil curled up on the couch in the den and drew Richie close to him. They had been urged to stay inside because true night had fallen. Bernadette had said, "And make sure you're in bed early enough so you won't be falling asleep tomorrow." She had studied them for a moment before adding, "Do I need to remind you where you are to sleep tonight?"

"V will crash here on the couch and I'll sleep upstairs," Richie had promised.

When she was gone, the two teens moved about until Virgil was spooned behind Richie. The blonde interlaced his fingers with Virgil's and drew their joined hands up to his chest. All laughter was gone from his voice. "Virg, I need to talk to you."

Virgil squeezed Richie's hand. "I'm here for you, man."

"Tell me about Backpack."

_I was expecting this. I knew he needed to talk… _But Virgil found himself missing the carefree time the two of them had in the tree house. _Well, love isn't made of a smooth road, Pops says. Here's the first hurdle. _Virgil switched from a lover's thoughts to the contemplations of a scientist. _This is what Richie needs right now, and I will give him what he needs._ "I talked to him last night and the three nights before that. He told me the same thing each time, both directly and in the way he answered other questions. He loves you. His only goal is to protect you." Virgil paused.

"Tell me the worst, V."

"He'll stop at nothing to make sure you're safe. He doesn't know the difference between right and wrong. He asked me if I had ever thought about humanely executing some of the more dangerous Bang Babies. 'Richie is in danger every time he puts on his costume. If some of the Bang Babies were dead, the danger would be less.' That's what he told me."

Richie nodded. _I knew as much, or at least a part of me did. _"Listen to this." He told Virgil about his dreams. "Do you think Backpack could be talking to me? Or am I just having nightmares again, of a different sort?" He turned towards Virgil, almost falling off the couch in the process. "V, I need to know what you think about Backpack's ability to contact me. Separate that from your opinions about my post-Brainiac recovery rate."

Virgil didn't smile. He could see the need for answers in Richie's eyes. "Say that in English."

"Is it possible that Backpack is contacting me?"

"Didn't you just tell me he has to plant a microchip or something in your head for that to work?"

Behind his glasses, Richie's eyes were intense. He wanted to know exactly what Virgil thought, and that included studying his physical reactions as well as listening to what he said. "Let's assume for a moment that he doesn't need it, that he's found a way around that difficulty. Now what do you think?"

"He'll do it if he can," Virgil said at once, and it was Backpack's single-mindedness that he was thinking of. "Everything that is Backpack has to protect you and won't stop until he's sure no one will ever hurt you."

Again, Richie nodded, and the look in his eyes eased. "That's what I figured." His voice was bleak. "Now give me your honest opinion on how much Brainiac has affected me."

Virgil stared at his boyfriend. _How can I answer that when you're the one inside your head? _"Rich, I don't want-"

That look of intensity, coupled with a tight grip on Virgil's hands, stopped Virgil in mid objection. Richie looked both frightened and determined. "I need you to tell me if I'm paranoid or crazy or whatever. Please, V, help me. There's nobody else I trust to answer this question."

Virgil was quiet for several minutes. He bit his lip and his eyes turned inward. His hands grasped Richie's own and he caressed them distractedly, much as someone might tap a pencil while he's solving a calculus problem. When he spoke, his hands stilled and he met Richie's gaze. "Before I tell you what I think, let me say something. I think differently after Brainiac. I probably don't understand all the ways I'm different, but I get a couple of things." _Do I sound like I'm rambling? Yeah, probably, but this is the only way to get it out. If I hesitate too long, I won't say what I have to._ "I've been so scared for you. When Brainiac opened his front plate and showed Batman and I that he had you… Do you remember when he did that? Were you in control of your mind at that point?" He knew how cruel that sounded, cruel and callous, but he didn't know how else to say it.

Richie wasn't looking at him. "You said to hit the remote. I knew what you meant… but I was so weak. I tried to look at you, tried to tell you I loved you… I was convinced I was going to die. I needed you to know." Richie chewed his lip. "I didn't have the strength to do more than lift my head and see you, caught by him. Then he closed me in again and I passed out."

Virgil touched his fingers to Richie's cheek, urging the blonde to meet his gaze once more. "I didn't want you to be hurt again. Seeing you like that nearly broke me. And when I found out that your father was abusing you…"Virgil hugged Richie, almost crushing him in his desperation to show Richie what he was unable to say.

That convulsive hug punctured Richie's remembered fear, and it collapsed in on itself like a balloon. He was able to see and think clearly once more. He sensed not only Virgil's fear and concern but the white-hot, coiled spring of his rage. "Virg, you don't have to punish the world because I was hurt. That's the last thing I'd want you to do. My father will have to stay away from me after the trail. Brainiac's been destroyed. I need you to understand those things and forget your anger." He laid his head on Virgil's chest. "Please just let me love you and love me back. That's the only protection I need. I know it's hard to fight the world and keep loving, but we can do it, V. It will be the hardest thing anyone's ever done. When we're old, we'll write a book about it and everyone will call it the greatest epic since Homer's _Odyssey_."

Virgil was silent. Richie felt his lover's muscles relax, one by one. _I'm still afraid of the battles we're going to fight, but if we don't start out strong we'll fall before we've begun. _Richie forced himself calmer.

"I hate every time you're hurt, Rich. Do you remember when we fought Slipstream? The scariest moment of that whole mess was after Slipstream knocked you into the pond. Your arm was broken. We ran from the shelter of the trees near the pond to that spot under the bridge. We were both in plain sight and I was out of juice, but I was more worried about what Slipstream might do to you."

Richie smiled, and there was no bitterness in his voice. "I'm stronger than you think, V. Not physically, but it takes a lot to break me. Do you know how Brainiac finally broke me?" He squeezed Virgil's hands because his boyfriend was looking angry again. "V-Man, stay with me." Virgil blinked and Richie continued, "He broke me by sending me wonderful dreams of you and me together. He broke me by making believe I was loved by you, then taking either turning that love into lust or taking you away. If you hate, I'll lose you. Please don't worry about avenging me. I need just you."

Virgil blinked at him a few more times. "I've been meaning to ask you, Rich: how do you stay like you are?"

Richie raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly am I?"

Virgil spoke the word without dropping his eyes. "Pure. I know you once said Brainiac changed you, and maybe he did for a while. But you're still innocent, Richie. Brainiac has changed one thing in you and one thing only: you've walked and danced with some of the darkest evils in this world." He thought, _Now I really am blabbering! _Still he couldn't stop himself. "But you're still you. Nothing Brainiac threw at you was enough to bring you down for good or change your fundamental nature."

Richie didn't smile, as Virgil had hoped. Instead, he turned his head so Virgil couldn't see his face and whispered, "He changed one thing. He taught me how to kiss."

Virgil didn't know how to answer at first, and his chest tightened when he realized Richie was struggling not to cry. It crossed Virgil's mind to say something flippant, something that would bring Richie out of his shell. He longed to see Richie smile. _But this isn't something we can laugh about and forget. Brainiac took Richie, taught him things only a lover should teach, then broke him, if only for the briefest moment. How do I help him heal from that? How can I? And almost more important, how do I convince Richie that I still and always will love him no matter what happens? Saying the words isn't going to cut it._

"I don't want to know how to kiss!" Richie's voice broke. "I mean, I don't want to know before you do. I wanted us to learn together. And when we kiss… sometimes I see the fake Static or the fake Virgil Brainiac created. I don't want to think about him anymore, V. I want to see only you, think only of you when we kiss."

It was so simple Virgil almost laughed at his own idiocy. "Then let's build some new memories."

Richie at last turned to look at him, and his confusion was clear.

"Trust me." Virgil nudged Richie off the couch. "Sit next to the wall." Richie's confused look deepened, but he shrugged and did as he was told. Virgil knelt beside the wall, flipped his feet up over his head and stood on his head. He grinned at Richie's shocked upside down expression. "Kiss me, Rich. I'll bet you haven't kissed like this before. Am I right?"

Richie's confused look melted away to be replaced by a beaming smile. "Virg, you're nuts, you know that?" But he turned over so his back was on the floor. He tried to kiss Virgil. He soon discovered that kissing upside down was much harder than it looked. And all the while blood was rushing to Virgil's head. "Virg, you can't keep this up for long," Richie said after his third attempt to kiss his boyfriend.

"So you'll have to figure out how to kiss me quick." Virgil's megawatt grin hadn't disappeared. "Come on, Richie; use that genius brain of yours."

Richie smirked at him. "Maybe I should just leave you there." Then he hit upon the perfect solution. He turned over so Virgil's face was upside down in relation to his and began raining kisses on Virgil's jaw, cheeks, nose and eyelids. He figured, _If I can't achieve the perfect angle for our mouths, that shouldn't stop me from kissing him. _At last he found Virgil's lips. The angle was all wrong, but Richie was past caring. Once he started kissing his lover, Richie discovered that he couldn't think of Brainiac even if he wanted to (which he did try). Virgil was kissing him back and Richie realized (with more than a little surprise, and an internal smile) that Virgil had been right. New memories were being built, and were pushing out the old.

Virgil began to wobble back and forth. Richie backed away at once. "Roll over, V. You're going to pass out if you don't. Virgil did, and lay on his side while the blood found its way back to the rest of his body. Richie took one of Virgil's hands and fell to kissing it, lavishing attention on each finger before moving on to the palm. This, too, kissing another's hand, was something he'd never done with Brainiac. He'd read about it in a book, and even though he had trouble imagining anyone kissing someone else's fingers in anything more than a token and old-fashioned gesture of greeting, once he started he found the act strangely addicting. It felt almost devotional and a bit meditative. He was preoccupied making little patterns on Virgil's palm with his tongue that he at first didn't notice the fingers of Virgil's other hand twining in his hair. But then Virgil started playing with his earring. And at first, even when he took notice, Richie couldn't quite bring himself to leave Virgil's hand.

When Virgil's hand left Richie's earring and snuck down the back of his pullover, Richie at last left off Virgil's hand. He twisted, giving Virgil access to more of his skin.

Virgil sat up and drew Richie towards him. "Let's go back to the couch."

Richie's face lit up. "Race you."

Virgil gauged the distance. "Ready…. Setgo!" He tired to leap up, but tripped over his own feet.

Richie moved like lightning, half crawling and half walking in a sort of crouch. He reached the couch first and collapsed onto its cushions, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. Virgil dove on top of him an instant later and Richie let out a surprised "Woof!" that made both of them laugh.

Snickering and snorting, Virgil fell to tickling his partner shamelessly.

Richie shrieked and tried unsuccessfully to throw Virgil off, or at least launch a counterattack. "Vvvv-V! Virg! Sto-stop! Quitahhh!"

Virgil leaned forward and started kissing Richie's neck, ear and cheek. And all the while he tickled the blonde ruthlessly.

"Virg, can't-" Richie gasped for air and tried again. "Virg, please!"

"Will you agree to kiss me if I stop?" Virgil growled mock-threateningly. "If you don't sear on your genius brain I may just tickle you until my arms get tired. And that could take quite a while."

"I s-swear!"

"On your genius brain!"

"Ye-es! V, please!"

Virgil stopped at once and moved so that he was lying next to Richie. "A promise is a promise," he whispered.

Richie put his hand in the way of Virgil's lips. "Wait."

Virgil blinked. He'd thought they were past the bad things, the things that had to be talked about. But the apologetic look on Richie's face made him feel a little better.

"Did you bring the Voxes?"

Virgil nodded, confused about where the question had come from.

And apparently Richie didn't intend to answer. He grabbed Virgil and dragged their bodies together. "Please, V…" Hee was blushing. "Love me."

Virgil started kissing Richie, but then what his boyfriend had said hit home. He stopped, even backed up as much as he could without falling off the couch. "Richie, what did you say?"

Richie's gaze wasn't shy. "Love me."

"I do, Rich."

Richie shook his head. "No, V. I mean _love me. _Make love to me."

Virgil's jaw dropped. "R… Richie…." His body had reacted at once, but Virgil was too shocked to pay it much attention. "Richie… you aren't asking what I think you're asking…"

Richie closed his eyes for a moment. "I am, Virg, but it doesn't have to be now. In fact-" he snorted- "it probably shouldn't be now, or your pops and my temp parents will tan both our hides. But…" He opened his eyes. "Will you? Someday? Will we go further than this? Will we… be together after… after high school? After college?" He was chewing his lip. "I know I'm asking for too much… I don't want you to feel trapped. I-I don't want to scare you."

Virgil cupped Richie's cheek with his hand. "Rich, look at me." Richie obeyed and Virgil found the words waiting that he had known weren't appropriate earlier. "I will always love you, no matter what happens. I'll never leave you." As Richie began to smile tentatively, Virgil kissed the corner of his mouth. "And even though I don't really want to grow old, as old as my pops or older, it would be okay to be old if you were old right along with me." He held Richie against him. He thought about leaving it at that, but there was more to say. "Not everything I've said today has made much sense, and some of it's been corny as an after-school special, but please don't forget this: We'll always be aces, no matter what. We've been through too much to let anything stop us."

"For real?"

"Realer than real."

Richie moved closer and closed his eyes. "I love you."

"I love you, too… But, Rich?"

Richie pulled back and met Virgil's gaze. "Yeah?"

"We can't sleep down here. They'll still tan our hides if we do, even if we don't do anything but sleep."

Richie chuckled. "Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm up."

oOo

"Please state your name for the court."

"Sean Foley."

"Mr. Foley," said the defense lawyer, "we have been hearing nothing but unsubstantiated rumors about abuse. Have you ever raised a hand to your son?"

"I've spanked him."

The lawyer shook his head, smiling a little. "I mean, have you ever struck him, bruised him, beaten him?"

"Objection! Those are three separate questions!" called the prosecuting attorney.

"Sustained," the judge responded.

The defense lawyer cleared his throat. "Have you ever left bruises on your son?"

"No."

"Do you know where his alleged bruises, those that were supposedly seen by Virgil Hawkins and others, came from?"

"I don't know for sure, but I can make an educated guess."

"Then make it, Mr. Foley."

"Richie hangs around with the wrong crowd. He has insisted on spending time with hoodlums since we moved to Dakota. I fear that either they, or others that are associated with them, have hurt my son."

"Do you know why your son would falsely accuse you of abusing him?"

Sean bowed his head and put his hand over his eyes. "Richie and I have never seen eye to eye. I have always tried to talk to him, but he has never responded well to me. I don't think Richie would accuse me without someone else suggesting it. Richie isn't a bad boy; he just lacks guidance. His hoodlum friends may have put him up to this."

"Please describe your relationship with your son since you moved to Dakota eight years ago."

Sean cleared his throat and he seemed incapable of raising his head. "It's been hard on his both, I fear. Richie… Well, Richie has always been a loner. I've tried to guide him in the right direction, to make sure he had good friends, but he was befriended by a hood, and Richie has always been impressionable. Once the hood gained his trust, I know my Richie would follow him anywhere. Richie has always needed someone to follow. He'll never make the best leader." He finally looked up and smiled sadly. "My Richie is a genius, but he has suffered through so many things. When he was quite young, he and his mother were attacked by a large gang of African-American teens." He coughed and shielded his eyes once more. "Maggie was raped." He covered his face with his hands.

"We can give you a moment, Mr. Foley, if you need it."

"It's… it's all right. I just hate thinking of everything my boy and wife have gone though. Richie… they stripped him, beat him, touched him. By the time the police showed up, Richie had received a concussion and a broken arm."

"I gained access to Richie's hospital records, Mr. Foley. One visit recalls those exact injuries. Tell me how old Richie was at the time of this attack."

"He was five years old."

"You mentioned that these gang members were all African Americans. Please identify Richie's boyfriend for the court."

"His name is Virgil Hawkins. He's sitting there, three rows back."

"Let the record show that Mr. Foley has correctly identified Virgil Hawkins. But Mr. Foley, if Richie was attacked by African Americans, why is his boyfriend an African American?"

"My son has always been forgiving and trusting. He has always longed to prove, both to himself and to the world, that not all African Americans are bad. So he sought out African American friends. Unfortunately, he found a dangerous boy to spend time with."

"Tell me about the night you were spotted at a KKK meeting hall by Static."

Sean groaned. "I don't understand why people have to separate themselves from society and form secret little groups. Richie went out that night… He often wanders around after his curfew, and there seems to be little I can do to discourage him. He has run away before, and all I have been trying to do since he ran away and keep him home so I can continue to try to help him." He seemed on the verge of tears.

"Please, Mr. Foley, take a moment if you need it. We can wait."

Sean rubbed at his face and whispered, "How hard it has become for parents these days. There are so many terrible things waiting to hurt our children."

oOo

From where he sat, Virgil felt sick. _He could win this thing. He really could. Then Richie… _Hopelessness stole over him, taking the place of the anger that might have been there. If Virgil had been in any condition to think creatively or constructively, he would have wished for the nearly blinding rage to return.

oOo

Not far away, sitting with his foster parents, Richie muttered, "I'm going to be sick." He clapped his hand to his mouth.

Bernadette put a supporting arm around Richie's shoulders and found them shaking. Richie's color had gone from a healthy cream color to the grey of something that had decayed in water. "Let me help you out of here," she whispered.

Richie shook his head and with both hands clapped to his mouth, ran from the room.

Behind him, Bernadette took her husband's hand. He wrapped his arm around her and they continued to watch Sean Foley walk away with Richie's safety held firmly in his fist.

oOo

_This is no time for fear of my allies, even allies who are a little confused, _Richie thought. He was standing outside the courthouse, hidden in a corner between a pillar and the wall. No one would see him here unless they were really looking for him, and knew exactly where to look. He closed his eyes. _If Backpack can contact me, maybe I can reach him, too. _He didn't relish having to suffer through that slimy-sexual feeling, but this was going too far. Gear needed to step in with his testimony. _If V can make up things on the stand, so can I._

He focused, blocking out the world around him. _Backpack! Backpack! Can you hear me? Backpack, answer me! I need you. I need you! Backpack, answer-_

That familiar loathsome feeling stole over him and Richie almost gagged for real. _Well, at least maybe this means I've made contact. _He redoubled his efforts. _BP! Can you hear me?_

_Yes, Richie. You have learned how to use the connection. Does that mean you are comfortable with it?_

_No, it doesn't. I'll never be comfortable feeling like someone's whore. But I need your help. Bring my costume to the courthouse, please. The trail isn't going well. It's time for Gear to offer some testimony._

_But Gear wasn't present at any of the attacks. Not physically, at least. He was in your mind, but… _Richie sensed Backpack touching his thoughts. That feeling of sickening arousal increased. _Gear is gone. You have joined together._

_Batman helped me when I was in Gotham. Didn't you read the letter I sent you?_

_I never received a letter. _Richie felt Backpack's anger mounting. _Virgil didn't want to show me._

_He might have forgotten, BP. But I need you to forget that for now and just get here. We'll talk to Virg together. I promise._

_I am on my way, Richie. Get to a place where you can change and I will find you._

_Thanks, BP._

_I love you, Richie._

_I love you, too. _Gradually, that stomach-turning feeling dissipated and Richie leaned against the wall, taking in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to get his heart to slow down. When he was sure he was alone in his mind, Richie thought, _Okay… Okay, he would never hurt me on purpose. But he doesn't understand how sick the connection makes me. And now I know he made the connection, microchip or no microchip. When this is all over I'll have to make sure I ask him how he did it. It might even be a good thing if we can manage the connection without all that... extra stuff._

Richie slipped out from between the pillar and the wall and made his way to a better place, even more sheltered, and definitely roomier. There he awaited Backpack and prayed the jury wouldn't be dismissed for deliberations until after Gear had appeared to plead his case.

oOo

"Richie and his hoodlum boyfriend were attacked by these KKK members. His boyfriend ran and they took Richie, meaning to punish him for trying to be friends with someone of another race. I don't approve of Richie's friends, but Richie doesn't deserve to be abused because of them." He sighed. "I received an anonymous call a little after midnight and was told where Richie was. I thought maybe it was Virgil Hawkins calling me, but I can't be sure of that because the voice was disguised. I drove to the KKK hall- I've heard of them, of course, and also the person on the phone gave me the address- but when I arrived I realized that they might not let me in unless I was dressed as one of them." He bowed his head. "I am not a violent man, but I did hit one man, knocking him out. I took his robe and his gun and went entered the building. I heard Richie's screams immediately. I ran to the basement, following the horrible sound…. It was a sound no parent should ever have to hear…" Again, he stopped, and this time all could hear his sobs.

"Mr. Foley, if you would like a recess…" the judge began.

"No… No, I'll be all right. I just- well, I'm just trying to make everyone understand how much I love my son. To be accused to hurting my pride and joy…" He gulped and wiped at his eyes. "I'm all right. I can go on. When I came down the stairs, I saw Static leaning over my boy."

A door at the back of the room opened and closed. No one noticed.

"I told him to stop, that I would take Richie to the hospital myself, but he didn't believe me. Richie must have told him that I was abusing him."

The person who had entered the room made his way towards the front, one slow step at a time. When he passed the first row of chairs where people were sitting, none of them noticed.

"Static picked up my boy and flew away with him. The hospital didn't even call me. I had to figure out where Richie was by going to every hospital in Dakota." He closed his eyes once more. "That's all I have to say, except that I love Richie and all I have ever wanted for him is safety and happiness."

When he passed the second row of chairs, some of the people from the first row at last saw him and gasped. A murmuring started in the courtroom.

"All I want is to keep his hand off the hot stove and his mind free from drugs and other bad influences."

The murmuring had grown louder, and Sean Foley opened his eyes. They fell at once on the helmeted superhero advancing on him.

The judge spoke. "This is a trial, sir, not a-" Then he seemed to realize who he was talking to. "I'm sorry, Gear, but you aren't part of this investigation and-"

"-and I need to speak to you, Your Honor, and to the lawyers as well. This has gone on long enough."

There was pandemonium in the seats behind Gear. Virgil started to stand, and his jaw had dropped. But his pops grabbed his arm and kept him in his seat.

Gear spoke over the increasing noise. "I won't leave until you've heard me out." He turned around and held up both hands, palms out, like a conductor silencing and audience. They hushed at once. He turned back to the judge. "When Static told me all of what he'd seen, I knew you had to have scientific proof of who hurt Richie Foley. I have that proof."

"We will discuss this in chambers," the judge announced. "The rest of the court is dismissed until after lunch."

oOo

"Mr. Foley, let's talk about that night with the KKK, shall we?"

Sean Foley tried not to show how pissed off, disappointed and yes, nervous he was. He had never taken much notice of Static's partner on the news, and the little he'd thought about him could be summed up in three words: _useless tagalong_ and _whore_. But now he was forced to admit that Gear looked formidable enough. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Let's start with Richie's choice of boyfriends. Tell us everything you actually know about Virgil Hawkins."

"He's a hood."

"What exactly has he done?"

Mr. Foley bit his lip. "I don't follow you. I only know what I see."

"To the best of your knowledge, does Virgil Hawkins run with a gang?"

Sean Foley fidgeted. "Yes."

"You don't sound very sure of yourself. I used my lie detector in the judge's chambers. Would you like me to use it out here as well?"

"I assume he's involved with gangs. Richie has… mentioned Virgil as "the leader of our gang" more than once."

_And so I did, _Richie thought, _once. So he'd pass that test._ "Are you aware that some teenagers use the word "gang" to refer to a group of friends?"

"That wasn't the way Richie meant it?"

"How can you know unless you were inside his head at the time?"

"Objection! He's baiting the witness!" the defense lawyer cried.

"Question withdrawn," the superhero answered smoothly. "Let's get back Virgil. He's been to your house, true?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"When Richie was fourteen. He convinced Richie-"

"Don't get ahead of me, Foley. I don't have any patience for you today."

The man's mouth closed with an audible snap.

"When Virgil Hawkins was at your house, did he steal anything?"

A pause. "No."

"Did he yell?"

"No."

"Did he swear?"

"I don't follow-"

"Did he say any word that you found offensive?"

Sean bit his lip. "He talked about hip hop and contradicted me in my own house."

"How did he contradict you?"

"He said, "Some hip hop is positive, Mr. Foley." But the way he said it-!"

"How did he say it/"

"He was smirking."

"And that's all? Virgil Hawkins has never stolen from you, never yelled at you, never sworn at you. All he's done is sass you a little?"

Sean's voice was very quiet. "Yes."

"I didn't quite catch that."

"Yes, damn you!"

Gear raised an eyebrow (which no one saw) and continued, "Now that we've established a little bit about Virgil Hawkins' character, let's return to the night Richie Foley was taken by Static from the KKK meeting hall. Are we in agreement that you saw Static take your son away?"

"Yes."

"Static testified that you didn't come down those basement steps alone. He knew who you were because of your resemblance to your son. And he said you weren't alone, that there were in fact five other people with you. Five other men in white robes. And he also said you were carrying a knife, not a gun. Tell me why Static's story doesn't jive with yours."

Sean Foley was ravaging his lip with his teeth. "I…" He chewed faster. "He's… He's just a meta-human freak! No one even knows who he is under that mask. He could be a serial killer and no one would know it! He probably made the whole thing up!"

"So you can't logically justify the differences in your stories." Gear nodded. "Tell me about when you went to see your son in the hospital."

"I… I never went. I wasn't able to find him."

"Earlier you said you figured out where he was. Doesn't that imply that you went to see him? What sort of parent wouldn't want to see his son, to make he was all right?"

"Objec-"

"Questions withdrawn," Gear cut in. "Tell us why Static had to stick you to a ceiling and why the police had to get you down a few hours later."

Sean Foley looked positively petulant. "I plead the fifth."

"And that is your right. Will you at least tell us why the police found you in a white robe right next to another man in a white robe, a man who the police knew to be the head of the Dakota branch of the Ku Klux Klan?"

The man didn't answer. He had taken to staring at his hands.

"No further questions." Gear crossed his arms and turned to face the jury. "Take what you have heard and balance it with what has passed these last few days. That is all I ask." He nodded to the judge and to both lawyers before striding from the courtroom.

oOo

Richie slipped into the chair beside Bernadette.

"You look better," she whispered.

Richie nodded. "I threw up a couple times and didn't feel any better. But when I came out of the bathroom, I saw Static and Gear talking in the foyer. Gear saw me and told me everything would be okay."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, I'm glad." She hugged him. "Now let's listen. The lawyers are making their closing arguments."

oOo

Five o'clock came and went, and still everyone sat waiting. Virgil had made his way to Richie's side and the two held hands as they waited. It was hard for Virgil to hold back the silly grin that wanted to spring forth, despite the tense situation. All he whispered to Richie was, "Static's lucky to have Gear, don't you think?"

Richie smiled and squeezed Virgil's hand. "Yes, he is. And so am I."

Bernadette heard the whispered words and saw Richie squeeze Virgil's hand. She was curious and already half-convinced that she understood what had happened between the time Richie left the courtroom and the time he reappeared.

The jury filed out then and declared that they were ready to make a decision. They had disappeared into the deliberation room scarcely two hours ago.

The foreman stood once all the other jurors were seated. "Your Honor, we the members of the jury find Sean Foley guilty of perjury and of child abuse."

Virgil threw his arms around Richie and the two of them sat that way as others that knew either Richie or Virgil stood and cheered. Among them were two classmates in the back row of chairs: Daisy and Frieda, and a young woman in the row nearest the stand. Sharon's voice rang out: "Hallelujah!" Her father didn't even try to hush her.

**A/N:** Next chapter… Hmmm…. Hotstreak? Ebon? Anybody? They're being kind of quiet right now… I don't think quiet is a good thing where those two are concerned.

**minijudi:** I hope this chapter didn't bother you too much. I'm glad you've continued to read the story. And about Batman hitting on Richie… What did I say that made you think that? If I said that, I've gotta watch my language. I meant only that Batman doesn't want to be close to anyone, doesn't want to take care of anyone as a friend because he's lost too many friends.

**Moonjava:** Please continue to send me your reviews. I appreciate them.

**Chaosdreamer:** I'm still not sure if Backpack made the wall, but I don't think it really matters. Gear has joined with Richie again… And yet, it may matter if Backpack has that kind of power. Thank you for your insight. You'll know about BP as soon as I do.

**anacsadder:** I'm flattered. I didn't know how well I was portraying anybody. All of my knowledge stems from my knowledge of my homosexual band teacher in high school (my mentor, also, and the most compassionate person on Earth) and my reading of a book about the time between Stonewall and before the AIDS epidemic was really an understood threat. The title was something close to "Ready to Catch Him Should He Fall".

I have two questions (please forgive their bluntness): 1) why do you call chapters chip chips and 2) what's penguin peace?

**anacsadder:** I was a juror in a trial when I was eighteen or nineteen. The alleged crime was only robbery, but I was nervous as all get-out. It's not easy being the only person under thirty-five (and visually impaired to boot) on a jury. But I learned quite a bit during those four days. And I have great respect for Virgil that he was able to keep his secret identify hidden. And I'm glad you enjoy feeling the love.

**Tristripe:** I always loved two-part episodes as a kid (and still do) but the real reason I put the trail in two parts is because I wasn't sure what was going to happen. And as you can see by the format of this chapter, it took me a little while to learn what was to happen. I am eternally grateful to Gear/Richie whatever for showing up when he did.

Brainiac in my head…. It was bad enough that I had to learn about him from Richie. Hopefully he's not still out there somewhere.

**leev:** The defense attorney is only doing his job. IBut think Mr. Foley _does _deserves this malediction I read once (slightly altered):

Man, man, go tell your Master,

To catch me he must follow faster!

His cunning is vast, but mine is vaster!

I wish him grief, I wish him pain,

I wish him death and Red Disaster.

Felimid mac Fal (_Bard_, Keith Taylor)


	5. Chapter Four: Plotting

**A/N:** I'd like to thank Tristripe for challenging me to write some more descriptions into the story. It's something I rarely think about. If you don't want to know this little tidbit about me, skip to the next paragraph. I'm visually impaired, so I don't think in terms of setting often. But Tristripe is right: setting can be really helpful sometimes. So thank you.

Anyway, the battles are coming soon, but not in this chapter. As the title says, this chapter is all about planning for the big battles. And, just between you and me, I'm scared for Riche and Virgil.

**Fresh Warnings:** language (Richie), a little stronger than last time; non-con (sort of) and general creepiness. Read at your own risk!

Chapter Four: Plotting

Hotstreak was sick of the common room; its stench, its closeness, and of course its noise infuriated him. Four cement walls and a cement floor amplified the sounds until each was like a pin sticking in his ear. He was sick of watching Kangor and Hyde wrestle. He was sick of Ferret and Carmen Dillo circling the open pizza box, each trying to throw the other off so he could have the four soggy pieces inside all to himself. But more than all that, Hotstreak was sick of his own confused feelings.

_I feel just a little like a dog licking the hand of the master that beats it._ Hotstreak hated it when he felt less than superior, but what could he do? _I could decide not to show my trophy to Ebon. Or I could let him know that Richie Foley, the object of his lustful worship, is also Gear, his heart's desire. That would clear a lot of things up for Ebon, and he would be better able to plan his trap for Static, a trap that has to come soon. Ebon is having more and more trouble keeping us all quiet. And I don't just mean the Meta Breed. No, it's not enough for Ebon to order us around. He had to make sure no other meta-humans would be causing trouble. Static has to think we've all gone underground. _Hotstreak shook his head._ Even if Ebon doesn't know that Richie Foley is Gear, he should have enough sense to know that Gear is too smart to let Static fall for something like that. I mean, I'm not the boss here, but I get that. Of course, Ebon's a moron and everybody knows it except Ferret, Shiv, and just possibly Ebon himself._

Hotstreak rose without the usual snarl or grunt that escaped his lips when he was frustrated. He didn't want anyone to notice where he was going. When he was standing in the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. Kangor and Hyde were getting a little more violent; blood would be spilled soon. Ferret and Carmen were both drooling. Hotstreak's lip twisted. _They're part of the reason the Meta-Breed isn't running this city. _Of course, they weren't the only reason, but Hotstreak wasn't in the mood to give Static and his partner (_not to mention that stupid rubber _guy) any credit.

He ambled into the small room off the common room, doing his best to look casual just in case he was noticed. Here Ebon kept a buzzer that was connected to the room that only he could reach. Telling himself that he would be rewarded for the picture, that he was being a wuss for not immediately leaping on the opportunity, Hotstreak jammed the buzzer down. _I've been holding this picture for two days. It's time._

Ebon phased out of the wall. "What is it?"

Hotstreak sneered. Ebon's dismissive why-the-hell-are-you-disturbing-me tone pissed him off. "I'm not your bellboy, Ebon. I've got a proposition for you. So show me a little respect. Believe me; you're going to want this."

Ebon folded his arms. "I'm listening."

Hotstreak shook his head. "I want to talk about this someplace private."

Ebon grabbed him and moved towards the wall. "You want private? You got it."

Hotstreak wanted to protest- he didn't want to be on Ebon's own turf when they discussed this little agreement- but Ebon was already fusing with the wall and Hotstreak had no choice but to go with him.

Just being picked up and taken like any normal human enraged Hotstreak, and he was glad for the anger. It was a familiar ally. The moment Ebon deposited him inside his room, Hotstreak yanked the picture from his pocket and snapped, "I'll burn this right here if you don't start treating me right."

Ebon folded his arms, his silent answer to anyone who challenged him. "And what is it, exactly? Why do I need it?"

"It's about Foley. The whore you want."

_Damn it, _Ebon thought, _I didn't know I was that obvious. I don't' need a piece of scum like Hotstreak knowing what turns me on._ "The kid that's always hanging around Static? What about him?"

Hotstreak waved the picture. "I've got a little something that will help you sleep at night." _I sound like a pimp. Can't be helped._

Ebon was getting impatient. "Let me see it."

Hotstreak kept it out of his reach. "It's a picture of Foley. A really good picture. Trust me; you're going to enjoy this. But I want something in return."

_Don't you all?_ Ebon's scowl couldn't be seen, but some of what he was thinking must have shown in his eyes because Hotstreak took a half step back before catching himself and standing firm. "What do you want for a picture I haven't even seen?"

"I want to be part of your plan to take down Static. I want to be the one who knocks him out of the sky. After that, I don't care what you do with him. But I want to be the one to hit him first." _So I can whisper in his ear that I know his secret and that once he's dead I'll nab Foley and serve him to Ebon naked and ready for play time. Even if I don't decide to do that, Static will think I mean it. He'll die screaming for his precious Gear, his precious Richie._ Hotstreak's stomach turned unpleasantly, and he knew there was a part of him that didn't want to kill Static. _But just to bring him down… I won't stay for the killing. And I'll even give Gear a sporting chance to escape._

"That's all?" Ebon asked. His suspicion was obvious. "Why?"

"Because I want him to know that I'm better than him." It was even true, as far as it went.

Ebon laughed. He had always been a good judge of people; he understood that once you knew what a man needed, you understood the man, nine times out of ten. Hotstreak wanted to feel like he was the one who had taken down Dakota's funky fresh fool. That was fine with Ebon. _He _didn't need the street cred. Everybody was already afraid of him. Besides, he'd already been planning to use Hotstreak. "Deal." He held out his hand and they shook on it.

Hotstreak handed over the picture.

Ebon didn't even look at it. Instead, he grasped Hotstreak around the middle and sent him back to where they'd started their business transaction. He deposited Hotstreak next to the buzzer and disappeared back into his room.

Hotstreak scowled at the wall for a moment, then turned around. Carmen and Ferret had decided to fight over the right to have the pizza, so they weren't paying any attention to Hotstreak, but Kangor and Hyde were watching him. Hotstreak glared at them. "What?" He cupped fire in his hands. "You want some of this?"

Kangor flipped him off and walked away. Hyde, either armed with a shorter fuse than the Jamaican or just spoiling for a fight, jumped at Hotstreak.

Alone, Ebon gazed at the picture. Instantly hard, he retired to his bed early that night and didn't rise until morning. He got little more than two hours' sleep.

And when he woke up, he not only had a plan, but had decided that he couldn't think of a better time to strike. He went off to call a meeting. The attack would come tomorrow, or the next day at the latest.

oOo

In the Watchtower, Flash was staring fixedly at a row of little red dots. His feet were still and even his hands were still.

Green Lantern noticed the younger man's posture and frowned. If Flash wasn't moving it either meant he was focused on a problem or…. focused on a problem. GL strode over, readying himself for anything. "What is it?"

"Somebody's trying to use one of our old communication frequencies." Flash wasn't even looking at him. "Who would know our old frequency and not know the new one?"

GL leaned forward and studied the readings. "How many times has the computer registered attempted communication?"

"This is the second one. The first came five minutes ago. Wait a sec…" Flash watched as the red dots changed to little green ones. The voice of Static's partner, Gear, came over the speakers.

"Justice League, come in."

_He doesn't sound anxious, _Green Lantern thought, _only a little… nervous? _"This is Green Lantern."

"I didn't think I'd figure out your new signal before the next century," Gear said. "Sorry if I set off any alarms by using the other one. I didn't know you changed it."

Green Lantern waited. Beside him, Flash was hopping from foot to foot.

There was an uncomfortable silence on the other end of the connection, then Gear said, "I need to get in touch with Batman. I have a little problem. He and I talked about it before, and I wanted to let him know how it's progressing."

Flash grinned. "You and Static finally deciding to go public?"

Green Lantern groaned. There had been a wager flying around the Watchtower lately, started by none other than The Flash. The wager was simple: How long before Static and Gear fall in love?

If Gear was shocked, he didn't let it come through in his voice, and Green Lantern admired him for that. "Since you're the only family I've got right now that I can be completely honest with, yes, Static and I are together. But that has nothing to do with my conversation with Batman. Can you connect me to him or not? If not, I'll try to reach him through Wayne Enterprises."

Flash blanched. "Why would you try to reach him there?"

"Well, Bruce Wayne's a connected man. And he's been studied by several different groups who think he might just possibly be Batman."

_Kid's too smart for his own good,_ GL thought. "I see you aren't worried about blowing Batman's secret."

"This is a secure channel. I reinforced it on my end and I figured you already had protections. Look, I don't care who Batman is, but I need to talk to him. Will you help me or not?"

"I'm transmitting his frequency and other information now," Green Lantern told him. "And, kid?"

"Yeah?"

"You've got a lot of guts hacking into the Watchtower."

"If you hadn't changed your frequency I wouldn't have had to." Then the blonde sighed. "Look… I'm really tired and just a little screwed up right now. I'm sorry if I ticked you off."

Flash glanced at a monitor nearby and tapped at it until he had the time in Dakota. "Maybe you're tired because it's four o'clock in the morning."

"Believe me, if I could sleep, I would. Thanks for the info. Gear out." The connection closed.

Green Lantern and Flash exchanged a glance. "He doesn't sound so good," Flash said. Then he laughed. "And he's going to the Bat for counseling? He must be desperate."

"I'll ask Bruce about it in the morning," Green Lantern said. "He won't be back until sunrise anyway, so the kid won't reach him until then."

oOo

John had left the house shortly after three A.M. Bernadette had awoken from a terrible nightmare around two and had asked him to check on Richie. When John poked his head into Richie's bedroom and saw that the bed hadn't even been slept in, he called the police. But waiting on the cops wasn't enough for John or his wife. Bernadette got on the phone and called Virgil's father, wanting to know if he or his son had received a call from Richie. Then she called several of her neighbors, those who had really taken to Richie, and asked them to come to the house so they could form search parties. Once everyone had been assigned an area to search, Bernadette placed herself in a chair that was near the phone and close to the front windows so she could look out. _Richie, come back. Please come home._ She refused to consider the prospect that Richie had been kidnapped. She knew of the disappearance of children right out of their homes; of course she did. But as there was no proof that anyone had entered the house, she wouldn't entertain the possibility.

Because if Richie had been taken, the chances that he would be found alive were slim going on none.

oOo

Richie sat against the trunk of the mighty tree that supported the tree house. He was on the first level, wanting a roof of sorts over his head not because it was going to rain but because he felt slightly more protected. A silly, childish notion, perhaps; no construct of wood could protect him from the thing in his mind.

He'd tried to reason with Backpack: _I don't like how the connection makes me feel, BP. It makes me feel dirty._

Backpack's answer: _You promised to try it if I helped you at the courthouse. Besides, you will grow accustomed to it, Richie. I promise._

He'd tried pleading: _Please let me go. I'm so scared… How can frightening me this much help me?_

Backpack's answer: _You promised, Richie. I have heard it said that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. You will become stronger because of this bond. You will see._

He had tried to force Backpack out of his mind.

Backpack's answer: _If you do not wish to keep your promise, I understand. After all, humans lie to each other on a regular basis._

_BP, I don't want to lie to you. I only want us to wait. Together we can build a bond that won't make me feel like this._

_Richie, you are lying to me and possibly to yourself. All you wish is to be free of this bond. I cannot allow that. I cannot risk your being hurt again. I won't let anyone hurt you, Richie._

You're_ hurting me!_

_Humans exaggerate. I am merely making you uncomfortable. You will either grow accustomed to these feelings or you will learn to ignore them. As with Brainiac, you will be strong enough to overcome slight discomfort._

An image of Virgil, naked, hard and waiting, flitted across Richie's mind.

_Besides, Richie, most teens have thoughts of this sort without an outside influence. Don't you wish to be more like those around you? Perhaps if you were more like the other humans your age, you would make more friends. Every teen needs more than one close friend. And the visions that come to you from our bond are different from those that Brainiac sent you. For one thing, you know that these are simply images. They can be forgotten. Second, the images will never behave contrary to Virgil's nature. He _will_ be waiting for you one day, in just that way. He may be seventeen, twenty or thirty, but someday he will be waiting for you._

Virgil's lips parted. _Richie… Richie, I love you. Let me show you how much I love you…_

_Teenagers think this way, Richie. And why do you resent images of your lover?_

But Richie didn't answer. He hugged his knees to his chest and prayed that Batman would contact him soon. He'd left a message with the Batman (Backpack asking all the while why Richie wanted to talk to the man) and now he would wait for a reply. As was true during his time with Brainiac, Richie found that he could keep some things to himself. But he couldn't guard his whole mind; only tiny bits of information could be kept secret. And yet he refused to be depressed or shaken by the prospect of another battle, this one with one of his own inventions, someone he had come to consider his friend.

He had resolved early in this insane struggle that he would stay strong, stay true. _I've survived too much to go down now, _he'd told himself.

Six hours later, Richie wasn't so sure he would survive until morning let alone be able to fight Backpack off completely even with Batman's help. He was tempted to ask himself how exactly Batman could help, but he refused to go there. Doubt was one more part of the equation he could do without.

Backpack was speaking again, touching Richie's mind and intensifying that feeling of need, arousal and self-loathing. _Richie, why are you disturbed so by mere images? You are acting very immature. These are but pictures. Can you not ignore them?_

_Do you feel contempt for me, Backpack? I think maybe you do._

_You are wrong, Richie. All I wish to do is ensure that you keep things in perspective. You are being too entirely emotional, even for a teenager._

_I'm just sick of being under attack. I want to be alone in my own mind. I want to be safe from mental rape and physical abuse. I want-_

_We cannot always have what we desire, Richie. We must learn to do our best with what we have._

_Don't patronize me, you mechanical monster!_

Virgil came closer to Richie. _I want to make love to you, Richie. Will you let me?_

On the platform, Richie's body responded. _No! I- You're not real!_

_I am real, Richie; I'm just not physical. Can't you feel me?_

Richie's hips rocked forward as invisible fingers seemed to stroke his growing erection. _Stop it, Backpack!_ Richie tried to turn his mind to Batman, to the leaves above him, to anything except the ghost-hand that was lighting him up.

_Let me take you, Richie. Spread your legs._ Virgil kissed him.

Richie twisted his face away. Virgil followed him. The ghost-teen's hands moved under Richie's shirt, stroking his hardening nipples.

"No!" Richie staggered to his feet, desperate to get away from the hands and the breath that he could feel on his neck and most of all from Backpack's presence in his mind. He stumbled forward.

Backpack called to him, real alarm in his voice for the first time, _Richie, you are above the ground. Richie, you must watch the edge or you will fall. Richie-_

Arms wrapped around him from behind, impeding his progress. Richie was now too far gone to know if their grasp was real or phantom. His foot came up, his heel connecting with an invisible crotch. He racked the heel of his sneaker down his assailant's leg and he stamped on his attacker's foot as hard as he could. The arms let him loose.

Richie leapt forward two steps and fell out of the tree.

oOo

Armed with a flashlight, John had taken part of the woods behind the house. He knew these woods like the back of his hand and chose several young men and women who knew the woods just as well to help him search. Everyone went in couples. It was just safer that way.

Mist rose about his ankles and owls hooted softly. John listened to the disembodied voices of the other searchers calling for Richie. Shivering in the night air (it was summer, but the nights could still dip to about forty), John did more listening than shouting.

In this way, walking softly and carefully, his eyes questing everywhere, he came upon Richie as the east began to lighten with the false dawn. John spotted him before his partner did, and at first when he began to run Roland thought his friend was being fooled by a shadow. But then he, too, saw the boy, and he raised his voice. "We've found him! Richie's here! Come quick! Somebody get a blanket! Richie's here!"

John dropped to his knees at Richie's side and took his coat off. _Please, God, don't let him be dead. _He spread the blanket over the prone teen.

Richie seemed to have heard him. He let out a great, gasping sob.

"Richie, Richie, it's all right. We're going to help you. Just lay still."

"Help… Batman… Static… Virg…"

John frowned.

"He's raving," Roland whispered, also kneeling at Richie's side. He also put his coat over Richie and stared at the teen's face, pale and ghostlike in the false dawn. _It's amazing his neck isn't broken._

"Static… Superhero down… Partner down… Gear down… Static…"

"Yeah," Roland muttered, "definitely raving."

"Be quiet," John snapped. His wife had told him what she suspected, and, if her suspicious were correct, then Richie's words made perfect sense. _I mean, think logically, John, _she had said. _Richie and Virgil are being watched over by two very busy superheroes. How realistic do you think that is?_

_But Bette, _he'd argued, _if they're superheroes, don't you think their parents would have known? If Richie's father didn't know, surely Virgil's would. _

_Who's to say he doesn't?_ she'd argued.

John touched Richie's hand. "You're going to be fine, Richie. Don't worry. Help's coming."

There was the sound of people coming. Roland stood and waved his arms to get their attention. "Over here!"

John used the distraction as a cover. He bent close to Richie's ear and whispered, "Gear, you'll be fine. Just keep quiet."

Richie's breathing seemed to ease a little, slow just a bit. "Tell Static… Don't let him get Static…"

"Who did this?" John asked.

"Backpack."

"I'll tell Static. I promise."

"And Batman."

_Batman! Does he really know Batman? Well, if he's really Gear, why shouldn't he?_ "I will."

Others had come. "I called an ambulance, John," said Nicole Hazzard. "They'll be here soon."

John nodded. "Will somebody go back and tell Bette?"

Nicole and her husband went.

Roland knelt beside John, touching his shoulder. "You quieted him. You-"

"I'm not hurt." Richie pushed himself up on his arms and turned to look at them. "I'm not hurt. I just need-" He chewed his lip- "Virgil. I need him please." He locked gazes with John as the sun sent its first rays between the tree trunks. They weren't in the deep part of the forest- bits of the real horizon could be seen from where they were. "I'm not hurt. But I can't-" He arched his back like someone stretching, or reacting to a lover's caress. "I can't function like this much longer. Please get V."

John reached out to touch Richie's shoulder, and the teen flinched away.

"Don't!" he snarled, his face filled with such vehemence that John almost doubted the identity of the teen before him. "Can't you see how hard it is for me not to hump you?" Then he released a breathy laugh and threw himself onto the ground, where he lay on his back, his hands twitching as he scrabbled at the ground, as if for purchase.

"For-forgive me… I'm not myself right now…"

"He's nutters," whispered Karen, coming to stand beside John. "He's nutters and no mistake."

"He needs more help than we can give," John answered. "Who's got a cell phone?"

oOo

Batman still hadn't come, but Virgil, Robert and Sharon had arrived shortly after sunrise. Bette and John had arranged Richie in his room, leaving the room open so they could check on him. But Richie had gotten up, told them he didn't want them to see what was happening to him, and closed the door firmly, locking it.

The rest of the neighbors who had helped to search for Richie sat about in Bette's living room, talking quietly and worrying about Richie. They all listened to Roland describe the situation. John wouldn't talk, except to his wife.

The two of them had gone to the back porch for a moment of quiet. John slipped his arm around Bernadette's waist as the birds came awake and announced that it was morning. John didn't hear their music. "Bette, you're right," he murmured, holding her close. "I can't believe that no one has noticed that when Gear shows up, Richie has disappeared. And I'll bet the same for Virgil, even though I'm not as convinced about him."

"It would make perfect sense," she answered. "As Static and Gear, they would always be together. They're best friends. It makes sense." She closed her eyes. "I don't even care who Richie is as long as we can help him."

"He's worried about someone attacking Static. He told me to warn him." John frowned. "Now, I know this sounds nuts, but… Richie said he was attacked by a backpack."

"By Backpack, you mean."

John raised an eyebrow at her. "How do you know what I heard?"

"Gear's robot is called Backpack. I've seen it on the news."

"But… it's a robot! How can it be a threat to him?"

"I don't think we're supposed to know. Hopefully Virgil will come and he'll be able to explain everything."

The two of them held this conversation as the sun rose. As they turned to go back inside, they heard their doorbell ring.

oOo

_Why can't this just be over?_ Virgil was twisting the bottom of his shirt in his anxiety. _If she hadn't called Pops, I could have flown here as Static in less than half the time! But, no; Pops had to answer the phone. Which means I have to ride. Richie, just hold on until we get there. Wherever you are, just hold on._

When his pops had at last pulled into the driveway before Richie's house, Virgil leapt out and flew up the walk. He rang the bell insistently, again and again, until his father caught his hand. Virgil glared at him, but the forbidding look in his father's eyes diffused some of his anger, if none of his fear.

The door opened and Virgil turned to face John. He saw how tired and worried John looked, but didn't pay any attention. "Did you find Richie?"

John nodded. "He's upstairs in his room. He needs you."

Virgil brushed past him without so much as a thank-you nod. He took the stairs two at a time, but when he was on the upper landing, he paused. _I don't want to burst in on him. I can't frighten him. _He strode to Richie's door and knocked softly.

There was no answer from inside.

Virgil knocked again. "Richie? It's Virgil." He tried the door and found it locked. "Rich?"

A throaty moan answered him.

Virgil shivered and his stomach clenched. _He sounds like he's in heat._ Virgil bent to the doorknob and used his powers to work the lock. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. When he saw what Richie was doing, he locked the door again. He didn't want anyone to see Richie like this.

Sweat gleamed on Richie's pale skin, highlighting his chest and abs. His nipples were aching points. Even as Virgil watched, Richie ran his fingers around them, his eyes slitting closed in pleasure. "Virg…"

Virgil gaped at the way Richie's boxers tented in front. Even as he stared, Richie tilted his head up, exposing his neck as if for a lover's kiss. The blonde began to writhe slowly, clutching at the sheets. He released that deep, lustful moan again.

_Richie…_ Virgil couldn't make his voice work. He felt a little sick; morbid fascination cramped his stomach. But more than that, he hated himself for way his pants suddenly felt tight.

Richie curled into himself then stretched, bowing his back. "Stop…" His voice was little more than a choked whisper. "Backpack, stop… I don't want this. Please stop… I can't-I can't-" He burst into tears and rolled onto his back, lying rigidly straight. "Break the link…"

Virgil's mood switched from self-loathing and shock to fury. He crossed to Richie, not completely comprehending, but knowing this much: Back was hurting Richie. He stood beside the bed, but didn't touch his boyfriend. _I won't frighten him. _"Richie? It's Virgil. I'm here to help. Just tell me what to do."

Richie didn't seem to hear him. He groaned, pouring all of his exhaustion and helplessness into the sound. Tears trickled into his hair and he was savaging his lip. Even as Virgil watched, Richie's lip split and a thin rivulet of blood wandered down his check to stain the bed sheets.

Something began to beep. Alert for danger, fearing it was Backpack, even though Virgil had left the robot in Dakota, the teen glanced around, searching for the source of the sound. It was muffled, but when Virgil picked up Richie's jeans, the blonde's Shock Vox fell out. _It's never made that sound before. What did Richie do to it… and why? _Virgil picked it up and hit the button to open the connection. "Static here."

"Where's Gear?"

"Batman?" _Okay, Richie wanted the Shock Vox, and he didn't use it to talk to me. He must have given Batman this frequency. But why? Did Rich know that he was going to come under attack? And if he knew, why didn't he tell me? _Virgil frowned at the Shock Vox. On the bed, Richie gave a convulsive twist and hissed, "Don't touch that!"

"Yes. Where's Gear?"

"He's right here… but he's kind of in the middle of something."

"This isn't the time for discretion. I'm on my way to pick you both up. Get him ready if he's incapacitated."

"Okay." Virgil watched Richie roll over and begin to rub his erection against the sheets. "…I'll do that."

"Batman out."

_Now, _Virgil thought, _to explain the impending disappearance of both Richie and myself._ He cast one final look at Richie, then strode to the door.

Out in the hall, with the door locked behind him, Virgil realized he was going to have to tell someone what was going on. _And, under the circumstances, I think I'd rather tell Richie's foster parents than Pops. This just isn't something that I can tell him in two minutes or less._ Virgil leapt down the stairs. Now that he was looking for John or Bernadette, he noticed all the other people in the living room. _Wow. When Richie said the whole community bonded together for things, he wasn't kidding._ He spotted John talking to his Pops, and he saw Bernadette standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

Not caring if he seemed rude or ungrateful, Virgil pushed his way to John's side. "I need to talk to you. It's about Richie." He glanced at his Pops. "And it has to be alone. I'm sorry."

Sharon opened her mouth, but his pops silenced her with a hand on her arm. "Virgil, if you need us, we're here."

Virgil felt his heart swell with love for his family. "Thank you." He gestured for John and Bernadette to follow him back upstairs. He passed by Richie's room, though, and asked, "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Bernadette led the way into the bedroom she shared with John. Virgil waved the two of them to the bed, taking up a position by the closed door.

"Richie and I have to go. A friend of ours is coming to help. Richie… Well, Richie has a problem. And no doctors can help him."

John and Bernadette exchanged a glance. John nodded slightly. "Virgil," Bernadette began, "I have a question about you and Richie."

Virgil was tempted to tell her not to ask, tempted to tell her that he wanted to tell them something else, but his confession was stuck in his throat and so he nodded.

"At the courthouse, while Mr. Foley was speaking, Richie felt convulsively ill. He left. Ten minutes later, Gear entered. He said his piece, blowing Mr. Foley's testimony to pieces. After he left, Richie returned." She smiled. "If I'm not right about this, you're going to think I'm insane. But I must assume that you, his best friend, his boyfriend, know the truth." She glanced at John again. "I, well, we, think Richie is Gear."

Virgil's jaw dropped.

"There's more," John said. "When I found Richie, he was laying on the ground under the maple that holds the tree house. He said a lot to me, and I could almost ignore it. Except, if we're right about Richie, then it makes a lot of sense. He said things like 'Help, Batman, Static, Virg' and 'Static… Superhero down… Partner down… Gear down… Static…'" John gauged Virgil's expression, and saw comprehension there. He hurried to finish, "But what really convinced me was when I told him, "Gear, you'll be al right. Just be quiet.' He calmed down a little, but… Well, it was obvious that he was trying to fight something off. And he asked me to warn Static. He said Backpack had attacked him, and that I needed to warn Static."

Virgil forgot any hesitation he had. Hearing Richie's words, albeit through another person, renewed his sense of desperation. Batman was coming; Virgil had to be ready, and he had to make sure Richie was ready. "He's Gear and I'm Static. Please don't tell anyone. No one knows, except Batman and the rest of the Justice League. Batman's coming to take Richie and me so he can try to help Richie. I need you to tell my Pops and sister something, anything. Please. I don't have the time to think of something. Backpack is destroying Richie's mind. I need to get back in there and take care of him. Backpack might force him to attempt suicide or something."

Bernadette reached out and hugged Virgil against her. "We'll explain things. Just help Richie. He's been through so much…"

Virgil returned her embrace, the spun towards the door. "I will." At the door, he said, not looking at them, his mind almost completely taken up with thoughts of Richie, "Thank you." He left.

Bernadette and John looked at each other, then at the closed door. Bernadette sighed. "We were right."

"And he was going to tell us." John put his arms around her. "We'd better get downstairs and start explaining things." As one, they moved towards the door.

"I can't help wondering, though," Bernadette murmured before John could open the door.

"What?"

"Why hasn't anyone figured out who they are before now?"

oOo

Virgil opened the door to Richie's room a crack. _You're an idiot, Virgil. Why'd you have to mention suicide attempts? _He spotted Richie and was both shocked and relieved by what he saw. Richie wasn't trying to commit suicide; instead, he was facing the wall, half crouching. _Oh, and two more things, _Virgil thought as he closed and locked the door, _he's naked and it looks like he's having sex with an invisible man. _Virgil gaped for another moment, and then got himself moving. _I need to dress Richie before Batman shows up._

He approached cautiously, feeling uncannily like a hunter stalking his prey. He stopped on Richie's left side and laid a hand on his lover's shoulder.

Richie flinched, his eyes widening. Virgil read the terror there. Richie pleaded, nearly sobbing, "Backpack, don't-" Then his eyes regained their half-dazed cast and he moaned loudly, thrusting his hips back. "V…"

Virgil removed his hand, and his lips twisted, transforming his face. _When I see Backpack, I'll fry him._

But Richie, Richie as he had been only two nights ago, spoke to him. _Virg, you don't have to punish the world because I was hurt. That's the last thing I'd want you to do. Please just let me love you and love me back. That's the only protection I need. If you hate, I'll lose you. Please don't worry about avenging me. I need just you._

Virgil gazed at Richie, and saw the conflict of emotions on his boyfriend's face. _I do love you, Rich. _He sighed. _But how am I going to get you dressed? _After staring at Richie for another few moments, he decided he would need to have clothes ready. He went to Richie's closet and hooked a white T-shirt. He took one of Richie's pullovers as well and snagged a pair of pants. From the dresser he grabbed boxers and socks. All this he laid on a chair beside the bed so he could take what he needed in the right sequence. Then he returned to Richie. _I hate this. But I know what I have to do._

He stepped behind Richie, circling his arms around the other teen's waist, and picked him up.

Richie stiffened, then began to thrash. He kicked Virgil in the shin and snaked his head to the side, attempting to sink his teen into Virgil's arm. He missed, but he continued to use his feet as the weapons they were.

Virgil grunted in pain but managed to reach the bed. He threw Richie down and straddled him, using his knees to pin Richie's arms to his sides. Richie tried to thrash, but Virgil held firm. He took the T-shirt off the chair. "All right, Rich," he muttered. "One thing at a time."

Richie arched up, trying to increase the contact between his backside and Virgil's unwanted, hated arousal.

Virgil swore.

"Fuck me," Richie muttered into the pillow.

Virgil's stomach turned and for a moment he couldn't move.

Richie tried to arch up again. "Fuck me."

Virgil remembered when he and Richie had tried to watch _The Exorcist. _Neither of them had made it all the way through. It had seemed to drag on forever. But even though the movie was tedious, Virgil could never forget the scene with the possessed little girl in the bed telling the priest to…

"Fuck me!"

Yes. That.

Virgil gritted his teeth. He focused on what he had to do and tried to ignore the trash pouring out of Richie's mouth. _Is this what he suffered when he was under Brainiac's control? If it was anything like this… _He shivered as he wrested the T-shirt over Richie's head. Then he wondered as a fresh shiver traveled up his spine, _He talked to me when he was under Brainiac's control. That means he was able to think. Can he think now? Does he know what he's being forced to say? And if he can think and reason, even if that doesn't show, can he hear me?_

"Richie, listen to me."

"Harder, Static…"

"Batman's coming to help you. I need to get you dressed, though. Help me if you can, Rich. Please help me." As soon as he spoke, Virgil wondered, _What if Backpack can hear me, too? _But it was too late. _Besides, I wouldn't change a thing. I don't care if Backpack hears, as long as Richie does. Rich needs me._

Virgil took one of Richie's arms and put it partway through a sleeve. He then took the other and did the same. Quickly, he pulled the T-shirt down and returned Richie's arms to their former, locked-down position. Then he turned, quick as lightning, so he was facing Richie's feet. He slipped the boxers up Richie's legs, then the pants. As he worked, Richie moaned and talked and arched, but he didn't fight. Had he heard Virgil? Or was he simply too wrapped up in his nightmare to pay attention to the world around him? Virgil doubted that last; Richie had fought him before, after all.

Still, even though Richie was helping him, Virgil didn't waste any time. He didn't know how long Richie would be able to fight Backpack's influence. He crammed Richie's feet into sneakers just as that control seemed to be slipping. Richie heaved himself upwards, almost tipping Virgil off. Virgil turned back and lay flat on top of Richie, forcing him back down.

_There's one thing to be grateful for, _Virgil thought as he panted and gasped, fending off Richie's attempts to kick, hit and bite him. _My erection's completely gone._

oOo

Static had just left him. The two of them had been sharing a soft downy bed on a cloud. Static had ordered his lover (or perhaps his whore) to beg for a hard fuck. Richie had begged, partly because Backpack compelled him to, but also because he was afraid Static would pick him up and throw him off the cloud as he had done before.

Now Richie stood in an echoingly large space. All around him, shadows danced on the cavern walls, thrown there by the torches that burned at irregular intervals about the walls. He had given up telling himself he wasn't really here; sometimes, it didn't matter where you body was if your mind was completely convinced that you were someone else. Richie shivered as a breeze swept through the cavern, raising the hair on his arms. The torches flickered more wildly and Richie cringed away from the terrible monsters their light created all around him.

He could hear water dripping somewhere; he longed for a drink. His throat was so parched and dry that he wondered how many more words he would be able to force out of his mouth. _Not that I'm forcing many of them; a lot are being pulled out of me._

Tap. Tap. Crunch. Tap. Tap.

_Someone's coming. _Richie looked for a place to hide. Failing that, he tried to cover his nakedness. The person was coming nearer; he would be in view in less than a minute. But suddenly Richie's attention was caught by another sound. This one was a voice, but it came from inside his head. _Who am I kidding? This is _all_ inside my head! _But he understood that maybe, if he was careful, he would have able to keep the voice from being picked up by Backpack. He closed his mental eyes and concentrated. The voice faded in and out, like a bad phone connection. It was even accompanied by static.

_oming to 'elp you. I need get you ressed... Help me… Rich. Please help me._

_Did he say rest? And whose voice was that, anyway?_ But Richie knew who it was, who it had to be. _V. The real V. _My_ V. He wants me to do something. He wants me to help him. How do I help?_ Richie frowned. _Wait. What if that word wasn't rest? What if-?_ He glanced down at himself. _Of course! If I'm naked here, then I'm naked there._ Richie blushed bright red. _So he's probably trying to get me dressed. He said someone was coming to help. So I need to stay still here so that I'll be still in the real world._

Richie heard the footsteps getting louder and louder. _He's almost here. And it will probably be either Backpack's version of Virg or Static. But I can't fight him this time. I have to do what he says… Say what he tells me to say._

The torches flared as Virgil strode out of a tunnel at the far end of the cave. He was bare to the waist, and his muscles gleamed in the torchlight. _He's covered with some sort of oil. _Richie could smell it, and it smelled good. But as the false Virgil approached, Richie didn't step towards or away from him.

"Richie…" Virgil came to him and cupped Richie's cheek in one palm. "My Richie. I've missed you." He kissed Richie, drawing him closer. Richie allowed himself to be drawn. "Did you miss me, Rich?"

"Always."

Virgil was kissing his way down Richie's neck. "I love you so much."

"Love you too, V."

"You seem a little tense." Richie felt it then: the first prying into the little sealed place in his mind. "Please tell me what's wrong, Rich. All I want to do is help you."

And, under Virgil's voice, Backpack's voice added, "All I want to do is help. Let me in, Richie." Again, the fingers pushed at his mind.

"Static frightened me," Richie whispered, leaning into the false Virgil's arms. "Please just hold me. I was so scared when he hurt me. Please protect me. Please don't let him hurt me again. I need you close. I need you and Backpack to stay close to me. I can only stay strong if you're both there for me. Please, oh, please, don't let anyone hurt me anymore."

He babbled on until Virgil put a finger to his lips. "Rich, I'll always be here for you. Why are you so afraid?"

"I want this link to work," Richie said, fully aware that he was really speaking to Backpack. "If it's going to work, please don't send Static to hurt me. Please just let it be Virg here all the time. Let it be Virg that holds me and comforts me and makes me feel good. Please. I need him. And I need you, BP. Please help me."

"Richie," Backpack answered after a moment (the false Virgil was rocking Richie gently) "I can sense the blocked place in your mind. Let me in so I can help you."

Richie began to cry. It was a lot easier than it should have been, but Richie didn't let that stop him. "When Static dropped me, I remembered Brainiac. I've sealed that memory away. When I'm ready to deal with it, I'll open up and let you read it, BP. But for now, please just let me have V. Please just protect me until I'm ready."

"Very well, Richie. I want only what is best for you."

In this way, Richie was able to keep Backpack from discovering his secret for several minutes. But at last Backpack pounced, uncovering the lie, and Richie was forced to give up a little more of himself. It was either that or go insane. The only piece of information he was able to keep completely hidden from Backpack was that someone was coming to help him.

oOo

Virgil glanced up when a cool breeze tickled him. He stared at the open window, thinking, _I didn't open that._

A voice spoke from the shadows by the wall. "Are you ready?"

"Batman? How'd you-?"

Richie howled and arched, at last spilling Virgil onto the floor. Virgil grunted as he hit, and made as if to stand. Before he could find his feet, Batman was past him and injecting something into Richie's neck.

Richie passed out.

"What did you-?"

"He's sleeping." Batman scooped up Richie and glided to the window. When he was at the sill, he asked, "Are you coming?"

**minijudi:** Your wish is my command. Bernadette and John know… and if Virgil and Richie weren't skilled at disguising their voices, they wouldn't have stayed superheroes this long. Besides, in "Kidnapped", the second-to-last episode of the series, Virgil's pops finds out that Virgil is Static. His answer (slight paraphrase): "…and maybe, just maybe, I've always known." Also in that episode when Robert Hawkins asks upon seeing Gear, "Is that… Richie?" Richie deepens his voice (rather convincingly, I might add). He might have actually confused Robert if Virgil hadn't said, "Yeah, that's Richie."

The Fiyero/Virgil/Richie stuff will get here… I can almost see it peeking over the horizon like the false dawn.

**Cloudedwater:** I don't know if you decided to pick up this fic, but I wanted to thank you for reviewing "Telling Tales". And I hope this clears up some of your questions.

**anacsadder:** I'm glittered. Thank you. And now you know what Francis wants… Well, as much as _Francis_ knows what Francis wants, anyway…

**smile:** Different… Hmm…. I'm glad you like it.

**Tristripe:** This descriptive stuff is harder than I thought, but it does lend more depth to the story, so thank you.

You wrote:

"I'm really glad Richie didn't turn into a sobbing mess and say "take me now vigil! if not, then you must think im a dirty whore!" Richie would kill me if I tried to write something like that.

Anyway, as I sound totally crazy… I used to hate it when stories were posted in sections, but I'm right there with you thinking about the evil scenarios. I've discovered that's half the fun.

And finally: I think I know where Richie si going to live, but it depends on the courts once again.

**BH:** Well, the good memories are taking a back seat for a bit, but they'll be back. This is far from over.

**Kari Anna:** I think you're right about Backpack and the wall. Unfortunately, that may end up being one of those unanswered questions… Like the history of Richie's ear-piercing.

**Moonjava:** And it's still not time for Richie to have a break. Maybe I should have titled this fic "Richie Torture"!


	6. On the Eve of Battle and Virgil's Though...

**A/N:** Sorry this one took so long! Two weeks isn't like me, but the choirs I direct are getting ready for a concert, so I don't really have the time to disappear into Static's world as much as I'd like.

For those of you that read Blue Lake: I liked Richie's grandmother, even if the rest of the story was a little messed up, so I paid homage to her here.

**New Warnings, right out of the oven and piping hot:**Hotstreak uses some interesting language to describe what he finds in a certain Bang Baby's room Let me know if anyone's confused about exactly what the Bang Baby did with those pictures of Static.

Okay, enough warnings. On with the show!

Book I

Chapter Five: On the Eve of Battle

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (2)

Chapter Five: On the Eve of Battle

"Remind me why we're here again?"

Green Lantern sighed. "Can't you pay attention for even two minutes?"

""Not when Superman starts talking about things that are over my head."Hestared at the house. It looked normal enough. The street where it was located was relatively quiet for a mid-morning in early summer. Flash didn't see the need for all the secrecy and caution. _That _much of Superman's speech had gotten through to him. _Use extreme caution,_ the leader of the Justice League had said. _There's no telling what that thing will do._

And yes, Flash had to admit that Backpack had caught him as neatly as a spider ever wrapped a fly. Once. And he'd been distracted. Flash grimaced. It still embarrassed him that he'd been taken in, allowed himself to be distracted. Granted, he hadn't had any reason to be distrustful of Richie Foley/Gear… or had he? Flash couldn't help but think that he might have been able to feel something wrong if he had Green Lantern's instincts, or Batman's. _But I didn't, and that's the end of it. When I had been caught, I looked up into Richie's eyes, and understood for the first time that it wasn't Richie that had captured me. _Again, to give Flash credit, Brainiac had never been able to take over a human mind before. He had only been able to control machines, and then to use thought-control disks.

_Well, it's over now. Brainiac's gone. Except… Brainiac was able to gain access to Richie's thoughts through Backpack. And now Backpack is acting strangely. Coincidence?_

He voiced his concern. "Do you think Brainiac took over Richie's computer again and is trying to take over the world?"

Green Lantern waited until two young kids passed on their bicycles. So far, no one had noticed them. The cloaking device was working. But it could only hide them from view; their words would carry if they weren't careful. "If he is, he's trying a completely new tactic. It isn't like a computer to change a plan that has worked for it in the past."

"Except it _didn't_ work. It hasn't worked on Earth three or four times. Maybe he's trying something new."

"I don't think it's Brainiac."

"Why?" Flash jumped from foot to foot.

Green Lantern was staring fixedly across the street. "I have a feeling."

Flash sighed. "So, what do we do?"

"We get inside, we find Backpack, and we convince him to come back with us to the Batcave."

"What if he won't come?"

"Don't make extra problems," Green Lantern snapped.

Flash blinked, but didn't say anything. When GL was stressed, it was best to keep your mouth shut. _And if _he's_ stressed…_ Flash wished he'd paid more attention to Superman's boring lecture.

Green Lantern closed a hand on Flash's shoulder, making the younger superhero look up at him, surprised at the contact. Green Lantern was one of the more… distant members of the League. "He'll most likely come without any trouble," GL said. "He wants, more than anything, to be near Richie. Just remember that and we'll be fine." When Flash nodded, Green Lantern looked across the street one more time, checked left and right, and said, "No one's coming. Let's go."

oOo

Ebon looked over his troops, none of which knew they were being watched. _This proves they're idiots. Where there are shadows, I could be lurking, listening. And yet hey talk freely._

_Well, all except Hotstreak. _He glared at the back of the firebrand's head, wondering what Hotstreak was thinking. The Bang Baby had become entirely too intelligent lately. First the picture- how had he gotten that, anyway?- and now this silence that was more contemplative than moody. Ebon was used to Hotstreak being moody; he would be able to feel the other meta-human's anger building and would be able to time almost to the minute when the teen would explode.

_But now he's thinking, and that bothers me. I don't need anybody messing with my plan. _Then he smiled. _But he wants Static so badly. I think he'll go along with me at least that far. And after Static is dead, and Gear is with me, I don't care what happens to Hotstreak. No matter how much he thinks, he can't hurt me._

Closing his eyes for a moment, Ebon composed himself. An image- his constant companion for days now- floated beside him. In his little dream, Gear and Richie Foley were chained side by side on his bed. Richie was crying, but Gear refused to break. He fought, but in the end was always left bleeding. And of course he tried to comfort Richie, even as he himself grieved for his dead partner. Ebon smiled. _I love a challenge._

He looked out at his troops once more, pointedly ignoring Hotstreak. Talon and Aquamaria were talking together, but without any real animation. The two weren't friends; Talon wasn't friends with anyone. She'd proved from the beginning that she neither needed nor wanted others around her. She talked to others because they were there, and that was all.

His gaze swept over Kangor, Shiv, Carmen Dillo, Hyde and Ferret without really seeing them. They would help his plan, but they weren't essential. Replikon was essential, as was Slipstream. And Replay would help, even though Ebon had conceived of his original plan without the actor. But when Replay turned up, wanting to get Static in the worst way, Ebon hadn't said no.

Of course, each "essential" had demanded something from him. Slipstream wanted a whore. Ebon had thought of saying, _Why? You're so trim and handsome. Can't you find one on your own? _So Ebon had agreed to give him anyone he wanted. At once, Slipstream had mentioned a little hero he'd thrown into a pond. _He was Static's friend,_ Slipstream had said. _Blonde hair. Rode a scooter with a motor on it._

Ebon had known exactly who the fat hog had meant, and he'd vowed, _You won't touch my Richie. _Slipstream knew nothing of Ebon's promise to himself. He knew only that he would get what he wanted.

For the others, Ebon might actually keep his promises. Replay wanted a crack at Static. So did Replikon. Ebon could appease them. No reason Static had to die quickly. He deserved to suffer for all the trouble he'd caused.

Ebon squashed his anger just as he'd distracted himself from his lust. Now was the time for planning.

_It'll happen tomorrow night. Static generally patrols between seven and ten, sometimes later if things have been shaky. Which they haven't. All we have to do is lure Static out. And if Gear comes with him, that's perfect. And if he doesn't, I'll make it my business to find out where he is before I kill Static. Gear won't escape me. Worse comes to worse, I'll grab Foley and threaten to kill him if Static doesn't tell me where his partner is. Static's a superhero. He'll give away his partner's location to save a civilian. And since he has no idea how badly I need Richie and Gear in my bed, he'll assume I don't really want Richie._

His eyes moved back to Hotstreak. _I'll have to ask him where Richie lives. Too bad I can't just grab my boy before all this goes down. But I don't want anything warning Static. And I can wait. It's patience that's gotten me this far._

oOo

Virgil sat between Superman and Wonder Woman on the small couch. Virgil fidgeted. _Why does a millionaire have small rooms like this? I feel like I'm going to suffocate! _Across the room, Hawkgirl stood by herself. J'onn was in the next room, trying to reach Richie. Batman was with him. But there wasn't much that could be done until Green Lantern and Flash returned; Virgil found himself wanting to chew his nails or pace. Alfred had brought in tea, but none of the superheroes had touched it. Virgil didn't know about the others, but his hands were shaking too much to pick up a cup.

No one spoke. Virgil was trying to listen beyond the closed door. He longed to press his ear to the wood, but he knew that was out of the question. If Batman came out, or when Green Lantern and Flash arrived with Backpack, the door needed to be unblocked. And still he strained to hear any sound. He knew Richie was probably still unconscious, but still he listened.

The flight back had been one of the strangest trips in Virgil's life. Batman had ordered Virgil to strap himself in, then the Dark Knight had lain Richie in Virgil's arms. The teen had cradled Richie's head against his shoulder, supporting the blonde with his arm. Richie had been out, and yet he was still able to mutter and move about a little.

As they left Dakota, Richie had snuggled against Virgil and purred. Virgil had drawn his Richie even closer, shielding him and maybe comforting him as well. Richie slept all the way to Gotham.

But the journey wasn't strange because of these things; what made it so was the utter silence in Virgil's own mind. It was as if he wasn't able to worry or hope or plan. All he had done was feel the warmth of Richie's body cradled against his own. If he hadn't known better, Virgil would have suspected that some of the drug Batman gave Richie had seeped into his own pores.

"Richie's in here."

Virgil sat up straight as the door nearest him opened. Green Lantern and Flash entered; Backpack was riding on Green Lantern's back. Having been briefed by Superman how he must act if he saw Backpack, Virgil hid his rage and smiled. "Hey, BP. Richie needs you." He pointed at the other door. "He's in there."

Backpack turned his sensor-eye on Virgil, and the teen wondered if he sounded entirely too cheery. He certainly felt like a character on Barney. Hopefully he didn't sound as bad to the robot as he did to his own ears. He added, not wanting to blunder further, but needing to say something, "He's in shock. I don't understand what's happened to him. We're hoping, since you're connected to him, you can figure it out." _Great, Virgil. Now you sound ingratiating and unconcerned as well as cheery. Why don't you just keep your mouth shut? It'll be for the best._

Backpack spoke. "I am partially responsible for his shock, I believe. I have been trying to work on a connection between us so that we are always able to communicate. Richie is… having difficulty adjusting to it."

Virgil was stunned at how much more developed the voice enhancer was. Backpack's voice was still buzzy, but it sounded… Virgil resisted the urge to shudder. It sounded almost like Richie's voice. He tried to tell himself that it only made sense: Backpack loved Richie. Wouldn't he want to emulate him? But Virgil couldn't shake the feeling that Backpack sounded like Richie because he was slowly _becoming_ Richie, taking over the blonde's mind and absorbing Richie into himself. It was a groundless assumption, but Virgil was terrified nonetheless. He looked down at his hands

_And it's not groundless. Think of everything he's already done! Maybe he would assume that if he imprinted Richie's personality in his memory banks that he would be able to dispose of Richie's "unneeded" and "imperfect" human body._ An image of kissing that sensor-eye flitted across Virgil's mind and he grimaced.

"Do not fear for Richie. Now that I am here, I will help him."

Green Lantern noted Virgil's obvious distress. "Come on. Every moment counts." He led the way into the next room, leaving The Flash out with the others. The door closed behind him.

Superman vacated the seat beside Virgil and Flash sat down and looked at Virgil. "He really sounds worried. All the way here he kept telling us how much he wanted to protect Richie."

"I hate him," Virgil whispered, clenching his fists. "I hate him and I want to fry him. But I'm afraid that if I do that, it will hurt Richie. They're connected."

"Electricity doesn't travel through telepathy, man-made or natural," Hawkgirl said.

"But Backpack might take Richie with him, either accidentally or to "save" him from having to live in the world unprotected," Wonder Woman said. "It's best to let Batman and J'onn handle this. J'onn can easily enter Richie's mind and Batman has a lot of experience working with those who have… mental challenges."

Virgil grimaced. "As long as he doesn't hurt Richie."

She put her hand on his arm. "He won't. Everyone hears about the criminals he has brought to justice; less well known are those that he saves from insanity."

Virgil closed his eyes. "I know. I just wish I could be in there." He held up a hand. "And before you say it, I know the reason I'm not allowed in has two parts. First, I'd probably get in the way when I tried to help Richie because I'd have to double check everything Batman or J'onn tries. Second, Backpack and I don't trust each other, and the stupid little robot doesn't need anything to put him on his guard." He groaned.

oOo

Richie awoke to a feeling of peace and calm. In his mind, there wasn't dankness or a cavern or a false Virgil waiting for him. Richie realized that all he could "see" was the insides of his eyelids. He _did_ felt slightly cut off from the rest of the world, but for the moment that didn't bother him. He was alone in his mind.

_Richie?_

Okay, almost alone. But he recognized the mental voice, and was grateful to hear it. _J'onn? Am I in the Watchtower?_

_You are in Batman's house. How do you feel?_

_Better than I did before. Stronger. Are you blocking the connection between Backpack and me?_

_Yes._

_I appreciate it, but BP might attack you to get to me. You're in danger. Now that I'm rested, I think I can handle him again. _And, after a moment, _It's amazing what a little sleep can do. I was in danger of losing my sanity before._

He felt J'onn withdraw, and that seductive-slime feeling returned at once, but it was muted and no images accompanied it. Richie turned his mind to the world around him. He heard the soft clicks and humming of nearby equipment, felt the surface on which he lay- more doctor's table than bed- and sensed the figures standing close to him.

He opened his eyes and gazed up at Batman. The world was blurry, but Richie didn't care; he never thought he would be so overjoyed to see anyone besides Virgil. And of course that prompted a question. "Where's Virg?"

"In the next room," Batman answered. "Green Lantern and Flash are bringing Backpack here so that we can discover how to block the connection between the two of you. Will you acknowledge that destruction of your robot may be necessary?"

Richie's skin crawled. How could anyone talk about death so clinically? He knew, of course, that Batman didn't think of Backpack as a person, but he couldn't help being offended on behalf of his friend… enemy… whatever. "I won't kill him, or let him be killed, unless there's no other way. Let me try to talk to him when he's here."

"Talking hasn't helped before," Batman answered.

Richie sat up, not liking the subordinate posture he'd been in. "Now that he can see me, talk to me, be close to me, he may be more reasonable. And you and J'onn will be there if anything goes wrong." He was silent for a moment. "You shouldn't let him talk to V. The two don't mix well."

"You make them sound like volatile chemicals," J'onn said.

"They're like vinegar and baking soda. On their own, they're mostly harmless. But together…" He shook his head. "Can I have my glasses? If I don't seem completely put together, calm and safe, Backpack will continue to see me as weak and unprotected."

When Richie could see completely, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, noting for the first time the clothes he was dressed in. His last memory concerning clothes was tearing them from his body. He blushed all the up to his hair, his ears turning pink. Not looking at either superhero before him, he asked, "Who dressed me?"

Batman said, "You were dressed when I arrived."

_That means Virg… _Richie's blush deepened. He cleared his throat. _I can think about, and be embarrassed by, that later. For now… _"When did Green Lantern and-"

The world spun around him and Richie's vision failed him for a moment. When he came back to himself, he was sitting in a chair with Batman on one side, standing a little back, and J'onn on the other. The Martian was holding the blonde's hand and Richie heard the telepath's voice inside his head. _What is it, Richie? I sensed a sudden invasion, but it retreated too quickly for identification. Was it Backpack?_

_Yeah. _Richie concentrated on breathing deeply for a full minute before he would allow himself to continue. He looked at both superheroes. "He's afraid for me, and was trying to reestablish contact. I-" He swallowed. "I put up a shield against him. I didn't know I could do that." He laughed. "If I'd known I could do that, I would have pushed him out before." He closed his eyes and searched within himself. "Except the shield's gone now and I don't know how I made it work." Frowning, he muttered, "Like the wall, but different. I didn't make the wall, but I made this out of the same material, the same energy. Where did the material come from?" That he couldn't answer, but at once he understood a little about the energy. "I stole the energy from the rest of my body. That's why I… Did I black out?" He looked from J'onn to Batman.

"You were borderline conscious," Batman answered.

"How long was I out?"

"Twenty-three seconds."

Richie sighed. "The shield took a lot out of me, then."

oOo

_Step off, Francis._

_God, I haven't thought of Frieda in months. She was so beautiful, so available back then… Except she wasn't. She didn't want anything to do with me. And all the geeks tried to protect her. Virgil. Foley. And this was before Virgil figured out how to fight. Back when I whipped his ass on a regular basis._

Frowning, Hotstreak wondered, _Why didn't I beat up Foley as often? I enjoying beating the hell out of Virgil, but Foley was just the nerd that was in the way. He was never a target. He was never good enough to be a target. He was just Virgil's backup. Get him out of the way and I could go about my real business._

_Step off, Francis._

_Shoulda burned him alive instead of just burning his shirt off._ The blonde had backed off in a hurry, but Hotstreak found himself still thinking of the kid's guts and stupidity. Because he'd already seen Hotstreak send Virgil running from fireballs, so what did he think he was doing telling Hotstreak, most volatile Bang Baby in Dakota, to step off? Just who the hell did he think he was?

_I'd expect that from Virgil; he's just smart-mouthed enough to put his foot in his mouth like that. But Foley?_ Foley was backup for Virgil, not a fighter in his own right.

_And yet here he is, three years later, flying around with roller blades on his feet and a computer on his back._

Yeah, but anybody could fly around. Foley was basically Static's shadow. No real help as backup, and a dangerously heavy anchor to drag around at times.

_Then why am I thinking about him?_

_Because, Francis, you moron, you've let what Talon said get to you._

_So what if Ebon wants to rape Foley? That's not my business._

_And so what if Ebon kills Static, right? Are you just going to blow that off, too?_

_Static's not my problem. If he's so funky fresh, let him take care of himself._

_He won't be thinking straight once Ebon takes Gear, and you know it._

_So what am I supposed to do? Warn them? Not a chance. Hell will freeze over first._

_You don't have to warn them. But you could maybe let Static slip through your fingers without making it obvious. You could give him at least a chance to protect his boyfriend._

_If they're stupid enough to fight against Ebon, then-_

You_ fight against Ebon, too. Are you like them?_

_No! I'm just not going to follow anybody's order, that's all. Unless I have to._

_So you have to follow Ebon?_

_He's going to give me the chance at Static I want. Static will know that I'm stronger than him._

_You really think Static is going to care about you defeating him in an unfair fight once Ebon's gotten his claws into Gear? You think too much of yourself._

_Shit._

_That's right. Shit. Now what are you going to do, Francis?_

Hotstreak wanted to punch something. But more than anything, he wished he hadn't given Ebon the picture and made the agreement. _Not that my word's my bond, but I'll be watched now. Shit shit shit._

He knew what he had to do. _If I make it look like I'm doing the right thing, then turn at the last minute and keep Ebon from capturing Gear, I'll find another time to show Static who's boss. Now all I have to do is make sure that whatever I do to keep Gear and Ebon apart doesn't point back to me._

That was going to take a little more thought. Hotstreak stared into the distance, his mind working. He was the last one in the common room that night. No one had even dared to approach him. The most dim-witted could see that he wasn't in a playful mood. Instead of singeing them, he might just haul off and fry one. And Ebon's plans and loyalty among the Meta-Breed be damned.

oOo

J'onn turned towards the door that led into the outer room. "They're here."

Richie felt the presence in his mind. It was unaccompanied by anything sexual and Richie reached out to it at once. _BP, I'm so sorry._ The apology was genuine, and Richie knew Backpack would be able to sense that. _I got scared. I don't know how I put that shield up and I'm sorry if I hurt you._

For a moment, Backpack was speechless. Richie felt him let go of fear, worry and, yes, a touch of anger. _Richie…I love you. I want to help._

Richie gathered his courage. _I love you, too. You're so important to me. But the connection is hurting me. I want to be connected to you all the time, to be able to reach you half a world away. But there has to be a better way. _Richie felt the warmth and weight on his legs as Backpack crawled into his lap. He stroked the robot, running his fingers over the smooth surface. In his mind, Backpack eased a little.

_We haven't touched in weeks_, Backpack sent. _Even when you were Gear, we didn't really touch because there wasn't enough time._ He radiated embarrassment. _I like touching you, Richie. Not sexually, but… I am not sure how to explain myself. And, _he rushed on, the words coming almost too quickly for Richie to understand, _I don't mean to make you feel like a whore. You could never be a whore, Richie. Never._

He continued with scarcely a pause, _I've run tests to discover if there is something evil inherent in the technology I'm using, but all the blueprints are clean and the diagnostics come back negative. After your visions began, I feared that I had resurrected Brainiac, but there was no trace of it in my system. And yet the visions continued. I convinced myself that you secretly enjoyed the visions._ He paused. _That became impossible to believe as you succumbed to them and yet still tried to retain a part of yourself._

_I-I am sorry, Richie. I am sorry that I hurt you. You don't need this strain, especially on top of all you have suffered._

_But Richie…I still don't want to be away from you. I have shut off the other connection; he have always been able to talk when are this close. But when we are separated again, what will we do? Must I trust to luck to keep you safe?_

Beneath his fingers, Richie felt Backpack shudder. He flattened his hands, caressing more firmly, wanting to convey his compassion and love in the gesture. _Let's play around with the connection. Let me look at the blueprints and run some test. As long as I don't have o deal wih it for extended periods, I'll be okay. _Now would come the hard question. _Backpack, you used Brainiac's schematic, right?_

_Yes, though I changed it a little so that I didn't need to plant a microchip inside you. I didn't want to posses you. I only-_

_BP, it's okay. I'm not made at you. I just want answers._

_Really? But I used your worst enemy's technology against you. And I know you consider that wrong._

_But you weren't trying to hurt me with it. You were trying to help._

_Myself. You were comfortable without me. It is I who needed you so badly._

_Backpack, that isn't true. I needed you. I always feel incomplete without you. And… without you and V, I'd be…_ He struggled for the right word. _I'd be lost._

_Richie, don't lie to me. And certainly don't lie to yourself._

The blonde protested, _What are you talking about? I'm not- _But of course he was, and they both knew it. _I just don't want to drive you away again. I hate it when you're my enemy. Friends shouldn't fear each other._

_Neither should they lie to each other. I have lied to myself recently; I know how damaging it is. Please tell us both the truth._

_I want you with me. I feel lost sometimes without you. But there are times that I want to be alone in my mind. When I'm sleeping, I want to be alone. _HE stopped, reconsidered. _Actually, that's not true. I'm not sure of all the times I want to be alone. When I'm with V, when we're kissing, I want to be alone. And I want to be able to ask you to leave and be able to trust that I have my mind to myself. Being connected to you is amazing, and I wouldn't trade that feeling of safety for anything, not even for V's love._

Backpack was stunned at the honest admission, but didn't answer.

Richie could sense his shock. He went on,_ But we can't have that connection all the time. It's too hard. _

_You need to be alone sometimes, _Backpack answered.

_See? _Richie demanded. _I've hurt you. And that's the last thing in the world I want._

_And the last thing I want is to hurt you, my Richie. I love you. I was created to protect, shelter and cherish you. And if that means ignoring my own-_

_You will _not_ ignore your pain! _The fury in Richie's mind carried easily down the link._ I won't let you. We'll find a way to make us both comfortable. Maybe we can change the link so that sometimes you can only sense general emotions, be able to tell if I'm happy or scared or angry. We'll change other things, too. We'll make sure that I can always tell when you're in my mind, and you'll always be able to tell when I need you. We'll turn Brainiac's technology into something that will strengthen our relationship, deepen our trust. I may be trying to control the link too much, but… _Richie shivered. _I never want to feel like I can't be alone when I want to be._

_You are suffering intense feelings of guilt and self-loathing, Richie. Why?_

_I hate telling my friends to back off. It's caused so many problems. _

_If you don't feel secure yourself, no amount of sacrifices you make for the friendship will keep it from falling apart. You have needs, Richie. Don't be angry with yourself for expressing them._

_I still am, BP… I might always be. But I won't let them get in our way. I'll take your advice; we'll build the new connection to address both your needs and mine._ His smile shone over the connection and he forgot his discomfort. _You're going to come back to the house with me. I'll take you. Together we'll figure out the best way to make a lng-distance connection._

Backpack sounded amazed. _Virgil is right about you in one way: you are pure._

Richie blinked and tried to snuff a flicker of anger. _You were listening to us?_

_Yes. I was suspicious -_

_Are,_ Richie interrupted tartly.

_I am suspicious of Virgil. And so I made the connection. I watched him make you smile._

_You reminded my of Brainiac. Every time I tried to kiss V, I thought of Brainiac. _He reined in his anger. They had come too far to be driven back. _Then you broke the connection, right? You weren't there the whole time._

_Yes. When you confessed to thinking of Brainiac, I left. Again, Richie, I am sorry._

Richie couldn't hide any thoughts from Backpack at that moment. He was too tired. _And the time for secrets plots is long over, anyway. I have a few choices, BP: be angry and stay that way, ignore the anger and pretend it doesn't exist or be furious for a little while then get over it._

_You are very angry with me, Richie._

_Yeah, but I'm mad at myself, too. It never occurred to me that you would develop intelligence. And when you did, I was so happy at first that I didn't take responsibility for your education._

_I know everything you know._

_You know everything I know up until I was moved to Edmanns. Which means you have knowledge of the sciences, math, my love for Virg, and my hatred of my father. The only prayers you've ever heard me utter were angry ones. True?_

_Yes. Though sometimes you apologized to this ' God' for your anger. And you thought of Virgil, wishing for his safety._

_I'm not very proud of my prayers. Things have changed, BP. Take what I've learned recently, please._ He felt Backpack slip past the surface thoughts and emotions to his inner motivations and beliefs. He relaxed, making the robot's passage easier.

A hand touched his shoulder. Richie felt it as a distant tickle. _Hold on, BP. Somebody wants me. _He opened his eyes and met J'onn's gaze. _I'm okay, _he thought at the Martian. _There's no danger._

"Then you are well?"

Richie nodded, then glanced at Batman. "We're all right. Both of us. I only have one more thing to tell him."

Batman didn't move, didn't blink, but Richie sensed the Dark Knight ease ever so slightly. _He doesn't trust Backpack yet, but he seems to trust my judgment, at least a little. _Richie was gratified.

_To be trusted, even in part, by Batman… _Richie turned his concentration inward. _BP?_

_I must ask you about the basis of your faith, Richie. It is strong, yet I cannot find its source. But I know you wish to speak to me._

_My faith has no logical foundation. That's all I can say. Faith is faith precisely because it doesn't need an earthly foundation. _He smiled. _Maybe you and I should go through the Bible together. But for now, please tell me why you don't trust Virgil._

_Do you want facts or feelings?_

_Both._

_I'll give you facts first. Virgil is a teenager and therefore cannot be trusted completely._

_Remember when we studied geology?_

_Yes? _Backpack's confusion was plain.

_Generalizations are the stuff of history. If you make them the stuff of research, you might miss a key point or a fact that deviates from the norm. Please judge V by what he is, not by what teenagers are supposed to be._

Backpack was silent for several moments. When he answered, his mental voice was barely audible. _Then all I have are feelings. Virgil has never done anything overtly harmful to you._

_Has he done anything to you? _Richie asked, knowing the answer full well.

_He ahs accused me of trying to hurt you, but he has never hurt me. He can be very angry sometimes, and that is the fault that I believe is the most dangerous to you. He is not angry with you; I don't think he could ever be truly angry with you. But his anger may make him careless._

_I've seen that much. You heard me tell him as much the night he stayed with me._

_Yes. Did he listen to you?_

_He tried. I'll have to keep reminding him._

_I will not stop being wary of him, for I do not trust him to control his anger under extreme stress, but neither will I persecute him nor will I interrogate him. Is that acceptable?_

Richie didn't' think, only reacted. He wrapped his love, his presence around Backpack because he could feel how afraid the robot was, how much he needed to be reassured. Backpack had put himself out and now he needed Richie to meet him halfway. _Thank you. BP. Thank you. _Richie wrapped himself more firmly around the tendril that Backpack held out to him. After a moment of silence, he said, "I thought I was whole when Batman put my two halves back together but I need you with me."

Backpack smiled in his mind.

oOo

Richie opened the door between the two rooms. Backpack followed at his heel, and the older superheroes came behind. Richie tasted the tension in the room, and instinctively he squared his shoulders. Hawkgirl and Wonder Woman were speaking in low voices, as were Green Lantern and Superman. Flash sat beside Virgil on the couch, trying to sit still and reassure the younger hero. His foot was twitching as he fought to stay in one place and help Virgil.

Virgil turned towards the door, his face a mask of pain and worry. When he saw Richie, he leapt to his feet and bounded across the room. Richie gasped as Virgil collided with him, hugging him so hard that he could scarcely breathe. "You scared me, Rich. You scared me. Are you okay? Richie, you scared me. Please don't ever-" Virgil broke off and began kissing Richie, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

_It's as if he's trying to memorize how I taste._ Richie didn't smile; the desperation he sensed in Virgil kept him serious. He spoke softly. "V, I'm okay now. I'm sorry I made you worry, but I'm okay now. Trust me, Virg; I'm fine. I promise." _What more can I say? _he wondered as Virgil continued to fuss over him. _I didn't mean to scare him so badly. Not that I had much choice._

_Richie, I am sorry about-_

_I'm not blaming you, BP. But seeing Virg like this-_ Richie caught Virgil by the shoulders. "V, stop for a minute. Virg…"

Virgil had buried his face in Richie's neck and was leaving small marks there with his mouth.

_It's almost like he's possessed, _Richie thought, and shivered.

Blinking, Virgil pulled back slightly. "What is it, Rich? Are you cold?"

_Well if I'd known that was all it took to get your attention…_ "What's wrong, Virg? It's like I died and was brought back to life."

Virgil blushed, and started to pull away.

Richie stopped him. "I didn't mean that," he whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I know you were only worried about me. But when I tried to get your attention and you didn't answer, I got scared. Please, V." But he wasn't sure what he was asking for. He leaned against Virgil and listened to him breathe.

"Whatever you need, Rich, I'm here." Virgil's arms encircled him again. "Just seeing you like that back at the house." He swallowed. "I've never seen you like that. You were- It was like you had gone mad."

"I lost it," Richie agreed. "I'm fine now, but I was just too tired to fight." He turned and gestured for Backpack to move closer to him. He knelt, putting his hand on Backpack protectively. He looked up at Virgil. "He didn't mean to hurt me, Virg. He was trying to keep me safe. He was afraid for me after what happened with Brainiac, just like you were afraid. I know you two don't trust each other yet, and so all I want from you is a truce. I'm not expecting friendship, but I want you to be polite to each other. Do you both agree?"

"Yes, Richie," Backpack promised at once.

Virgil was frowning at the robot. "Why does he have your voice, Rich?"

"I have synthesized recordings of your voice and my voice. Only. He had to use one of them." Richie chuckled. "Are you jealous, V?"

Virgil opened his mouth to retort, saw the twinkle in Richie's eye, and laughed instead. "A truce is fine by me. And it shouldn't be too hard; our other differences aside, all we want is your happiness."

Richie blushed and stood. Backpack climbed to his shoulders and settled himself there. "So… How are we going to explain this to John and Bernadette?"

oOo

The sun was dragging its feet, or so Richie imagined as he walked through the woods, hand in hand with Virgil. Time had turned sluggish to give the lovers a little piece of eternity.

As the stars fade one by one, chased away by the lightening in the eastern sky, Virgil turned to Richie and urged him to lean against a tree. Cradling the back of Richie's head, Virgil leaned forward and brushed his lips across Richie's cheek and the corner of his mouth. He inhaled a heady scent made of nature's perfume and Richie's light musk. And when Richie turned his head so that their lips fit together, Virgil drew his boyfriend's taste into his mouth and savored it.

Richie moaned and moved closer. He gripped Virgil's shoulders and made a small, contented sound when Virgil wrapped his free arm about his waist. _It feels so good to be held, _the blonde thought. _How long can we stand this way? How long until he has to let me go? _He closed his eyes against that eventuality.

"Rich?"

_Is it over already? _Richie tried hard to keep the disappointment from his voice. "Yeah?" He felt Virgil pushing him back slightly and he obeyed.

Virgil was looking down when he first started speaking. "Rich, I just want you to know-" He had raised his head, and now he caught the expression of need in Richie's eyes. Instantly, he drew Richie against him, hugging him tight. "I just want you to know that I'll always be here for you. You know…" He took a breath. "No matter what happens, I'm here for you. Okay?"

"I know, Virg. Why are you telling me?" Because Virgil's voice… Richie hadn't heard Virgil sound nervous in a while.

"I just… Something doesn't feel right." He didn't pull away, but asked, "Rich, don't laugh at this, okay?"

"I'd never laugh at anything that's hurting you this much."

"And please don't be angry at me. Okay?"

Now Richie was the one to push them apart a little. He moved one hand from Virgil's shoulder to the superhero's cheek. "Virg?"

Virgil turned his head so he was leaning into the touch. He closed his eyes. "I was thinking about the nightmares Brainiac sent you." He opened his eyes and Richie saw the lost look there. "How you sometimes knew that something was wrong but couldn't figure out what it was?"

Richie nodded, perplexed and worried.

"It feels like that now and I don't like it. Something… something _bad_ is going to happen. I don't know if it's going to happen to us-"

"But you think it might," Richie interrupted.

"Yeah," Virgil sighed. "I think it might. And I just wanted you to know that you're everything to me and I'll never stop taking care of you. And if I can't be there-"

_Please, V, don't even say it!_ But Richie kept his mouth shut. He knew enough about Virgil to be wise to the fact that he, Richie, needed to keep his mouth shut.

"-I'll make sure somebody's here for you. I won't let you go it alone like I did after Brainiac. I won't let anyone or anything hurt you like that again."

_You shouldn't promise something you can't control, _Richie thought. And he didn't trust himself to speak, so he held silent. The misery in Virgil's eyes, combined with the promise he was trying to make made Richie feel unsteady, almost dizzy. _Please, God, don't let anything happen to V. Please. If something's going to happen, let it happen to me. I know that's selfish in a twisted way because I want to protect myself from the pain and horror of losing Virg, but I can't help the prayer. Please, please, God, don't let anything happen to V. If it is Your will to protect us both, let it be done, but please protect Virg. I love him._

"Richie…" Virgil reached up and brushed tears from Richie's cheeks.

"I'm scared, V. And I don't want anything to happen to us, but especially not to you." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, steadying himself a little. "I know you had to tell me- I'm grateful you told me- but…" He almost said, _But I can't handle one more disaster. _Except, in his innermost heart, Richie knew he was stronger than that. "But I want you to know something, too. All these promises you've made to me I make to you in return. As much as either of us can promise something we can't really control. And… I'll promise one more thing. If something happens to you that I can't save you from, I'll tell your family. And I'll watch over them as Gear. I swear I will."

Virgil swallowed. "I can't promise to look after your parents, Rich. Do you want me to look after Bernadette and John if you…?"

"Yes, them, but Backpack, too."

"Then I promise, too, Rich. Because I love you." Virgil drew his lover, his partner close again and felt Richie relax slightly under his hands. "And who knows? Maybe none of this will actually happen."

oOo

Slipstream had listened to his part in the plan. He'd listened with a grin on his face. And when Ebon finished, he'd asked immediately, "What do I get for blowing the blonde off course?"

Ebon's eyes had narrowed, but Slipstream didn't back down. _I'm on top of the food chain, _he thought. _I'm not afraid of shadows. _

"What do you want?"

Slipstream's grin widened. "You're going to take Gear for yourself, right?"

"Yes."

_Touched a nerve there, didn't I? _Slipstream laughed softly. "Then all I want is one night with him before you completely destroy him."

"Never pictured you as one capable of having sex."

Slipstream stood up so suddenly Ebon was hard-pressed not to back away. "I'm stronger than you think," he whispered, and little whirlpools of air appeared around his fingers. "I want what I want, understand? Or you can just forget my help. I'll do everything I can to stop you, even. Then, when I help Static kick your ass, I'll get in with him and his partner. I'll Gear willingly, something you'd never manage."

Ebon snarled- _just like a dog, _Slipstream thought, _and I eat dogs for breakfast-_ and said, "Fine. One time only."

"That's all I want."

Ebon faded into the wall and was gone.

_That little firefly would have been even better under me… But I wouldn't have sex with a corpse. I need my victim to scream._

oOo

This is Fiyero. I have to add a little something here. Are you wondering how I was able to get inside Slipstream's head? I got inside Ebon's head because we were joined at one time, and both of us saw all of ther other's memories, but how do I know so much about Slipstream? My answer's simple: I can't.

This last bit was a bit of a stretch, since I can't get into Slipstream's head, but I've been around him enough ot make a good guess at his motivation. Besides, I slipped into his room once and saw all the pictures of Static. They were wrinkled in a way that suggested they'd gotten wet. And many of them were sticky or yellowing. I can vouch for the dialogue, though: I was eavesdropping. I hate to admit it, but I was nervous about Ebon's plan and my place in it. I wasn't so much concerned about what Ebon thought he could do to Static, but what the bastard would do to Static by hurting Gear. _If Ebon only captures and tortures Gear a little,_ I had reasoned, _leaving him with his mind intanct, Static will only fry the shadow's black ass. But if Ebon destroys Foley, Static will go insane. And I'm not afraid of Static, but I'm not stupid. Only an idiot would hurt Static's partner, unless they had a death-wish. Even then, dying by electrocution isn't the way I would choose to go._

That's how I cam to be spying on Slipstream and Ebon. I also overheard Ferret and Carmen Dillo talking later that same night, close to dawn. I heard the second conversation by accident, but I'm glad I did. It's good to know all the people that have a stake in foiling your plan. By the end of Ferret's and Carmen's conversation, I was actually starting to feel a little sorry for Gear. Not very, and I didn't let the feeling stop me later on, but at that moment, I remember thinking, _It's not his fault he's delicate and almost feminine. Between Ebon, Slipstream and now Carmen, Gear'll be ripped apart from the inside. Assuming Static escapes Ebon and lives, he might not rescue his partner in time._

Did I sound like a concerned citizen back then? Before you judge me too kindly, remember that my motives changed from moment to moment even if the actions themselves didn't. And I'm not being hard on myself: I just want you to know how I thought and felt back then.

Half the time I didn't know why I did things. Later, when Virgil I were trapped on Alva's island, I made a really dangerous robot explode. Virgil said, "Now you're using your head," to which I replied, "Not really. I just like to blow stuff up." It was true then and for a while after, and even now I sometimes feel like I want to return to that state of being (for lack of a better word). But the difference is as simple as it is fundamental: the thoughts that drive that urge are stable, for the most part, and I can control them.

Most of the time.

Maybe I'm not so different after all.

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins/Static Shock

Dear Diary, June 28, 2003

Richie'd better be back here a month from now. There's no way I'm celebrating his birthday somewhere other than the gas station. It's become a tradition. But Pops says it's harder than I think for him to win custody of Richie. Not that Richie will ever go back with his father, but he might be sent somewhere else. I'm glad none of his extended family lives in the U.S. The Children Protection people wouldn't send Richie back to Ireland to live with his grandmother, would they? And what if they sent him to Germany to live with his mother's sister, that crazy Air Force lady?

Okay, Virgil. Just stop. Those things are not only unlikely; they're just going to give you a headache. So quit on it, okay? Try to think of something positive. Like Richie a few hours before sunrise..

Okay. I can do that.

We spent the whole day with Batman and the rest of the Justice League. Batman called John and Bernadette to tell them that Richie and I were fine, and they passed that message on to my pops and Sharon. That doesn't mean I wasn't bombarded with a hundred questions when Richie walked into the house the next day, though.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to yesterday:

Both Richie and I were exhausted after staying up the whole night and half the next day. So we were given a bedroom, and we fell into bed and slept almost immediately. We were both too tired to realize it was the first time we were sleeping together. Well, I thought about it, but I couldn't feel excited when I was so worn out. I held Richie from behind, wrapping my arms around his waist, and he snuggled against me, murmuring, "Love you, V," before succumbing to exhaustion. I followed him a minute later after kissing his hair.

Then we didn't know anything for almost ten hours.

When I woke up, the moon was shining in the window, but it was low in the west. Sunrise couldn't be more than two hours away. Richie was still asleep, his fingers intertwined with mine. Drawing Richie even closer, I breathed in his scent.

"Mmm," he murmured without awaking up. "V."

I didn't want Richie to wake up yet, so I kept quiet. I became aware of where my hands were at that moment. They lay against Richie's lower belly, only an inch or two above his groin. Richie's T-shirt had pulled a little and I slipped my fingers under the thin material. I've never felt skin so soft. His muscles weren't well-defined, but I could felt the beginnings of the shape they would have if Richie continued as Gear for much longer. Being a superhero is like being a weight-lifter: you do it every day, or almost every day, and gain the muscle that comes with the hard work.

My mind veered away from the possibility that Richie and I might not be able to continue as we have been and I began to explore his enticingly smooth skin.

He stirred beneath my wandering hand and I stilled at once. Richie turned slightly, then rolled onto his back. His lips were parted a little, but before I could make up mind if I dared kiss him, knowing that I might wake him, or resist the urge and simply watch him sleep, he turned again and snuggled against me, facing me now. He slept on.

I brushed his hair out of his eyes and tucked it behind his ear. Tracing my fingers around his ear, I touched his earring. He mumbled something and pushed my hand away, so I simply went back to watching him sleep.

That reminds me. I promised to write about his earring one day, didn't I? I'll do that now. When Richie and I were twelve, we found earrings absolutely awesome (no kidding- that was the word we used. Embarrassing, huh?) Anyway, we started hanging around this one piercing shop about a mile west of the Gas Station of Solitude (not that we knew about that place yet, or had any idea that we would use it as a real secret headquarters one day). A scary-looking (and awesome) old guy worked there, and had about a thousand piercings. I say he was old. He was probably thirty or so. He came outside one day and started talking to us about all the different earrings people get, and what the best places for piercing are. Richie and I pooled our money and got up our courage to ask him if he could pierce our ears (one each). He looked at our money, said it was barely enough for one earring, and then, smooth as you please, asked who was going to be getting it. I know now that he shouldn't have done anything without permission from our parents, but at the time Richie and I thought he was the coolest adult in the world because he trusted our judgment and let us try whatever we wanted.

We tossed a coin to see who would win the prize. I called heads. The coin landed tails and Richie jumped so high I thought he was going to fall off the steps we were perched on. He didn't though and the three of us went into the guy's shop. He sat Richie down on a stool, had Richie choose an earring (Richie liked the black circle, the same one he wears now) numbed Rich's ear and then punched a hole in it. I winced and flinched when the little gun went off, but Richie's eyes only widened and he bit his lip. When man put the earring in and asked Richie how he felt.

Richie reached up and touched the earring. "Awesome," he whispered. Then he grinned at me. "Bet it looks cooler on me anyway."

I smiled back, but I knew then that I would never have the courage to get an earring. It sounded too much like what I imagined my moms must have heard when she was shot.

So, that's why Richie has an earring- he's kept the same one always, just cleaning it once in a while- and I don't.

Back to last night, or rather, early this morning:

About ten minutes after I had brushed Richie's hair out of his face, just when I was deciding to go back to sleep, Richie twisted onto his back, then sat up. Still deeply asleep, he reached out for something he couldn't reach. Nothing came from his lips but muffled groans. I started to reach towards him, but Backpack was there first.

I'd forgotten that the robot had followed us into the bedroom. Backpack had been so quiet. Richie had found him a place not too far from the bed where he could go into recharge mode.

Backpack was up on the bed in an instant, and was touching Richie's leg with one of it's mechanical arms. He was probably communicating with Richie through their connection, and I would have given anything at that moment to know what he was saying. Just because I've agreed to make peace with Backpack doesn't mean I trust him.

Richie dropped his arms. One hand touched Backpack and caressed him lightly. His face eased and he fell silent. His other hand reached towards me and I took it, surprised at how cold his fingers were.

"Virg?" His eyes were still closed.

"I'm here, Rich. What-?"

"BP?"

The robot beeped and whispered in his stolen, synthesized voice, "I am here also, Richie. Rest now. You are safe."

Richie sank back down, curling up around Backpack. But he drew my hand with him so that I ended up spooned behind him as I had been when I woke up. "Love you guys," he whispered. A moment later, his breathing evened out and he was lost to us again.

"What was he dreaming about?" I asked.

"He dreamed that he was being dragged down a tunnel, away from you and me. When he reached out, he was reaching for us. He is resting easily now."

"Have you been following his dreams all night?"

"Yes. I always do that. And I help him when I can." He paused. "Much as you would. We are not so different, you and I. We just have different thoughts about how to protect Richie."

_You've got that right, _I thought, but I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut.

It's noon now, and I've been up since about four this morning. But I'm not tired. Richie's asleep in my bed, but I'm sitting here at my desk. This feeling of impending disaster has been crawling about inside my head for the better part of eight hours. I managed for forget it while I was writing, but remembering Richie's nightmare has brought it, screaming, to the front of my mind.

I don't understand what's coming, but something is. Richie's spending the night, but maybe we shouldn't go on patrol. I know that makes me sound like a chicken, but I can't shake this feeling. I can't believe I'm going to write this, can hardly believe I'm even thinking it, but Backpack is right. All we want is to protect Richie. We'd both step between him and a bullet or a Bang Baby without hesitation.

But I understand something about Richie that Backpack doesn't get yet. Rich is human. He's a brave human. He doesn't want to be sheltered all the time, or kept separate from the world. If I ever tried suggesting that he back off a little, stop being Gear until I felt it was safe, well, that would be the end of our relationship, or at the very least put a serious strain on it until I apologized. So I can't protect Richie by locking him away. I'll just have to protect him by guarding his back.

I hate not being able to just kill every single danger in Dakota and leave it at that.

Okay, Virgil, just stop. Richie doesn't want you angry, right? So calm down. But I love him! I love you, Richie. Is it so wrong that I want to protect you?

Shit. I sound like Backpack.

**A/N:** You guys are going to think I'm totally nuts, but I lost all your comments about the last chapter. They're nowhere to be found! Since I haven't deleted anything from my computer in a long time, I'm starting to think Brainiac took them. Or maybe Backpack. Maybe they were a threat to Richie.

Anyway, please forgive me. I'll have to just thank all of you for reading and reviewing, and if you have any pressing questions, please resubmit them.


	7. Book Two: Chapter One: Assualt

**A/N:** This used to be four pages longer, but it included an interlude that I think would have only been an annoying and unnecessary stretch of the tension. The interlude will appear later, because it is important, but not just yet. Right now, Virgil, Richie and Hotstreak deserve our undivided attention.

Warning 1: Ebon's... uh... actions. If you're squeamish, be warnied: this is only teh beginning.

Warning 2: If you're afraid of the dark, you might want to read this during the day.

Book II

Chapter One: Assault

"It's been really quiet lately," Virgil said as he slipped out of his shirt and reached for his costume. The time on the small clock Richie had installed read eight twenty-one. The sun would set in about half an hour. "That's why I kept telling you Static hasn't been seen much, and there hasn't been anything on the news about him. It's like all the dangerous Bang Babies took a holiday."

"No such luck," Richie said as he slipped his helmet on. "Backpack says the concentration of metahumans in Dakota is as high as it's ever been. And if they'd gone on holiday, they probably would have caused a stampede out of that area." He laughed. "And as far as I know, there's nothing weirder in California or New York City than there usually is." He checked to make sure all his Zap Caps were settled in their proper places, then silently called Backpack to him. With the robot settled as well, Richie felt invincible. He lifted a hand and touched one of Backpack's "arms". "BP says there are two concentrations of metahumans: one downtown by the movie theater, and one a few blocks away, closer to the fancier restaurants and museums. We could fly down there together and split up."

Backpack and Virgil answered simultaneously.

"Rich, maybe that's not-"

_-not recommend it, Richie. It might be-_

"-I don't want us apart like that. Stuff happens when you split up. Look at _Scooby Doo_."

_And Virgil has been having premonitions. Do not ignore those. Human intuition can be a very valuable asset._

Richie threw his hands up. "Okay, okay!" he cried. "I hear you!"

Virgil blinked. "Rich, I just-"

Richie shook his head, smiling ruefully. "BP was saying the exact same thing in my head, Virg. I give. We go together."

_One more thing._ Backpack climbed from Richie's hack and scuttled over to Virgil. A panel in his top opened and he held a small device up to Virgil. He considered asking Richie to relay the message (he could tell Virgil didn't like it when he, Backpack, used Richie's voice) but decided that he didn't want to waste time. "This is a small device that reads thoughts in a very rudimentary way. It's a variation of the homing device you sent to Richie. When you are in danger, it will notify Richie. In this way, he will know when you are safe. It will help him worry less."

Virgil didn't take it yet. "Are you saying he'll be able to read my thoughts?"

"More like your impressions and strong emotions. And it differentiates between being on high alert- when your adrenaline is high- and real alarms."

Richie asked, "Is this why you wanted to see the homing device V gave me?"

"Yes. You have a device like this as well. Virgil will know when you are safe and when you are in danger."

"But when we're on patrol we're in danger a lot," Richie said. "Won't these things send a call for help at the wrong time?"

"I have programmed them only to send out an alert when you are in a situation you cannot get out of on your own."

"No offense, BP, but how can a machine, unless it's as sophisticated as you, know when we're in mortal peril?"

Backpack's voice was a little quieter. "I am not sure, Richie. I programmed them as best I could. They are not a complete safety, it is true."

Virgil, wondering why he was moved to help Richie's robot, said, "But it's good to have as many safeties as possible. We can test them tonight, if we get the chance, and if they work, we'll keep them. If not, maybe Richie and I can help you figure out what it is the little things should be reading." He took the small device as a gesture of good faith and asked, "Where do I put it?"

Backpack seemed startled, but answered, "Anywhere where it won't fall out."

Virgil put it in a pocket with a zipper.

Richie dropped to one knee beside Backpack. "I sounded really mean just then, didn't I? I'm sorry."

Backpack climbed to his accustomed place and said softly, "I could feel that you didn't mean what you said in a hurtful way." He turned his senor eye on Virgil. "Thank you."

Virgil smiled. "We're all in this together," he said. "Come on. Let's get to work."

oOo

Ferret scented the air and licked his lips. "There's bread in there," he said, pointing at the bakery.

"No duh," muttered Carmen Dillo, who was watching the alley across the way. He couldn't see far inside because the sun was about to set, but he didn't need to. When Ebon wanted to be seen, he'd make himself known.

And when Ebon showed up, Carmen knew that he and Ferret had better be ready. They were the bait.

Ferret's stomach rumbled and he groaned, rubbing it.

"Oh, shut up," Carmen snapped. "When Static's dead, Ebon'll own Dakota and you'll get everything your idiot belly wants." He laughed. "And I'll get what I want."

From where he crouched on the fire escape above, Hotstreak sneered at what he thought of as the 'lower Bang Babies', those that had either seemed to lose their intelligence when they gained their powers, or hadn't been the brightest light bulbs to begin with. _If Carmen really gets what he wants, I'll go jump in a lake. _Thinking of Carmen trying to slip between Foley's spread legs made him snort. His mind wandered to Slipstream…. It tried to show him what the "top dog" might look like, naked, sweating and crouching over an equally naked Richie. Hotstreak's stomach turned. Not even remotely funny.

Grimacing, Hotstreak looked towards the alley where Ebon would make his appearance, and was more than a little startled to see Gear sitting on the ledge of the building on the alley's right. His little robot was back in its proper place, instead of riding around with Static, and the blonde had his walkie-talkie out.

_Where the hell is Ebon? Why didn't he warn-?_

Just then, Ebon shot straight up from the pavement below, meaning to engulf the superhero.

But Gear either heard or sensed the rising shadow, because he took off, dropping something from his left hand as he did. An instant later, Hotstreak had to shield his eyes as the thing Gear had dropped exploded in an intense burst of light. Ebon screamed. But even as he was forced to retreat and get himself together, he yelled, "Now! Now!"

Carmen and Ferret exchanged a comical look of surprise. Hotstreak ignored them; taking aim, he threw two fireballs at Gear, one slightly to the left, the other just that much off in the other direction. If Gear managed to dodge one, the other would almost certainly hit its mark. The fire missile on the left caught Ger in his side, miraculously missing his arm as he pitched another sphere. He would have been left with third-degree burns if not for his costume. As it was, the teen tipped sideways and started to fall. Flames skittered up and down the material that had saved him, never quite catching.

Hotstreak followed the blonde's progress, thinking, _This isn't the way it was supposed to happen, but maybe it can still be salvaged. Once he falls, I'll-_ He watched as Backpack moved to cover the smoking place, putting it out. Gear had righted himself and was hovering a few feet off the ground, struggling to work something out of his belt.

The projectile Gear had thrown hit an unsuspecting Shiv, who had been rushing out to take care of his part of the plan. Metal arms wrapped around Shiv and he fell on his face, probably crying out. No one heard him.

That was when Static made his entrance, soaring over the same rooftop Gear had been sitting on only moments before. Surrounded by a white-purple skin of electricity and his teeth bared in a snarl, he looked to Hotstreak like a vengeful god. Static's cry rent the air like one of Zeus's thunderbolts. "Gear!"

Yes, definitely like a god. Not that Hotstreak was discouraged. Turned on (it was the power and not the person, he assured himself) but not afraid. Now was his chance to do what he had promised himself he would. It was even better than he could have hoped, maybe, because everyone was running around and confused. Ebon's carefully-laid plan had been ruined by one simple thing he hadn't taken into account: what if Static and Gear arrived, but not at the same time? _What then, black ass? _Hotstreak laughed. _I'll tell you what; a free-for-all where you grab what you can and leave the rest to chance._ He ran out of the alley, taking aim once more.

A water-missile hit him in the chest.

_Fuck! I'm on your side! _he wanted to scream at Gear, who was pulling another projectile free of his belt. _How many different kinds does he have, anyway, and how many is he packing?_

Static flew to Gear and the two of them rose as one away from the street.

_I'll get him next time. _Hotstreak wasn't bothered by the prospect. Much as he wanted Static, he wanted the funky fresh hero on his own terms. And Gear being involved wasn't a part of those. _We're going to lose them! _Hotstreak thought, elated. _And I didn't have to do anything but-_

Replikon, looking like an eagle that had grown to the size of a pterodactyl, dropped out of the sky then, colliding with Static. Now it was Gear's turn to shout for his partner and head into danger.

Static hit the concrete with Replikon on top of him. As the eagle-dinosaur thing tore into him with its claws, Gear reed another Zap Cap and pulled back his arm, ready to throw.

_Maybe he can stop this before it goes any further,_ Hotstreak thought. Then he spotted Slipstream flying up the street, his eyes intent on the blonde.

Gear let the projectile fly.

_Damn it, Foley, just go! He'll be fine! Just go! _Hotstreak looked down at his soaked shirt and his relatively dry pants. _If I lose the shirt, I might be able to use flames again. _He stripped, leaving the shirt behind him like a useless snakeskin. _Now if I can just rescue Static before Slipstream-_

A tightly-wrapped ball, almost four feet through the middle, flew over Hotstreak's head and slammed into Gear. The blonde once again started to fall as Carmen somersaulted and landed on his feet a little distance away.

But again Gear didn't fall. This time, he was buoyed up by a faintly purple breeze.

_Shit!_ Hotstreak stared as Slipstream drew Gear towards him. Cursing, he turned his attention to Static. He'd come back to the problem of Gear. There had to be a way to help Static without- Wait. Hotstreak grinned.

The Zap Cap hit Replikon's back, probably hard enough to leave bruises if the man hadn't transformed into something with thick skin, but when it exploded, it released only a small electrical charge, no more than half of what Static was trying to use to push his attacker away.

Hotstreak charged Replikon, shouting, "He's mine! He's mine! Ebon gave him to me, so just take your filthy claws out of my prize!" He sounded spoiled and totally unlike himself, but Hotstreak figured everyone was too busy trying to salvage the situation to pay much attention to what he was saying. He was betting on it, in fact. He turned his fists into flames and bore down on a surprised Replikon.

oOo

_I'll never be able to watch _The Wizard of Oz _again, _Gear thought as Slipstream's air currents wove themselves around him, tightening like chains. But he didn't care about the Bang Baby who had trapped him much; all he cared about was the fact that Static was down and he, Gear, couldn't do anything about it.

_Backpack, you need to-_

_I _will not_ leave you here, Richie. That is one thing you cannot order me to do._

There really wasn't time to argue. _Then call the police!_ The wind-chains dragged him inexorably towards the grinning metahuman and Gear realized he wasn't going to be able to use any of his inventions to get out of this. He glanced over his shoulder again, afraid to see what the creature- most likely Replikon- had done to Static, but needing to know. He was in time to see Hotstreak- _Hotstreak!-_ slam into Replikon, knocking him off Static. Then he was pulled around a corner into the alley he'd been sitting above less than ten minutes ago. Gear turned, wanting to glare at his attacker- only to have his helmet wrenched off. Suddenly the world was a blur, and he was hard-pressed not to panic.

Arms encircled him then and a wet mouth found his.

The touch was blessedly brief, but it left Gear disgusted. His helmet was pushed back down and Gear stared in shock at Slipstream's gloating face.

"I _knew_ you were that little hero running away with Sparky," he said. "And now that I'm top of the food chain, it's time to get paid like the-"

Backpack leapt over Gear's head and tried to poke out Slipstream's eyes with two of his arms.

Something small and spherical whistled in from the left and slammed into Backpack, sending him flying.

_BP! _Furious and terrified, Gear wrenched one arm free of Slipstream's hold and punched the Bang Baby in the face. He tried to hit him again, but a new thing sped past his ear and the world to his right exploded. Gear threw up his arm to shield his face instinctively.

Slipstream took advantage of this to wrestle Gear into submission.

Gear turned his head, not caring for a moment that he was trapped again, only needing to know if Backpack was all right. When he saw the way his friend's back had been crushed, he opened his mouth to scream. In his mind, he was already crying, _Backpack! Backpack! Answer me! Answer me! BP, please!_

Then Slipstream's grip tightened and Gear suddenly found it impossible to breathe. Much sooner than he would have thought possible, the world started turning grey. _No! I have to get to Backpack! And I have to find Static! I can't pass out! I can't!_

oOo

Over Replikon's feathery, enormous shoulder, Static saw Slipstream draw Gear close. At the same moment, an alarm went off in his head. _Like I can't see for myself. Do something, Backpack!_ He thrashed under Replikon, ignoring the pain in his back, the dizziness that came from having his head slammed into something incredibly hard and the agony on his chest where his lightning-bolt symbol used to be. He was opening his mouth to scream the order, praying the robot would hear him, when searing heat made him turn his head away. An instant later, the weight on his chest was gone and he was up, looking for his saucer and looking for Gear.

A little to his left, Hotstreak was fighting Replikon.

Static saw his disk almost at once and called it to him with his powers. Everything hurt, and the dizziness was much worse, but he fought his way into the air. Still unable to spot his partner, he shouted, "Gear! Gear, where are you?"

A resounding explosion rocked the street, and Static ducked as bits of debris were turned into dangerous missiles. He flew in the direction of the blast, which seemed to have come from between two buildings. He plunged into the dust and smoke and used his electricity to blow it away. He saw Gear almost at once. His partner was draped, unconscious, over Slipstream's shoulder. Slipstream was standing on something, and after a moment Static saw what it was.

A large hole had been ripped in the side of the building on the left, and bricks lay everywhere. But it wasn't the bricks that had taken out Backpack; Static knew instinctively that the robot was too strong for that. The explosion hadn't been directed at the building, but at Backpack. Somehow he had become separated from Gear, and Slipstream had taken the opportunity to-

"Hey, babe."

Static gaped as Replay stepped around Slipstream. He held a small grenade in one hand. When Static narrowed his eyes, realizing who had really thrown the explosive, Replay wiggled his eyebrows almost flirtatiously.

"Surprised to see me?" The actor laughed. "Well, you'll be seeing a lot more of me in a just a minute."

Static heard something crunch behind him, and he whirled. He saw four purple blurs, all with red hair. _His clones, _Static thought. But that was as far as his understanding went. Something hard and metal collided with his temple and darkness began to swallow him up almost immediately. _Gear! _he thought as the world shrank around him. _Richie!_

oOo

_You will_ not_ hurt my Richie! _Memories of Brainiac fueling his rage, Backpack sprang at Slipstream. _I will take his eyes out and when he drops Richie-_

He heard the projectile approach, but even his reflexes weren't quick enough. _Richie! Shield your-_

The missile struck him, knocking him off Slipstream. But it didn't explode at once. _Perhaps it is only a rock or a metal ball. _

_BP! _shouted Richie over the connection.

Backpack landed on the sidewalk and turned his eye to Richie. He saw Richie strike Slipstream. He started to respond to Richie's cry.

All of this happened in less than three seconds.

Then half of his sensors disintegrated and Backpack blanked out for a moment. Not blacked out; he was a computer, not a man, but still every single connection in his "mind", as well as those to the outside world, misfired.

When he came back to himself, the first system Backpack checked was the connection. _Richie? _

No answer.

_Richie?_

Still nothing.

Backpack reached out as best he could, needing to sense something, anything, from Richie. He hit a wall of dead circuitry almost immediately. _Then the failure is on my end. Perhaps Richie is still alive._

He turned his attention to his outer systems. Most were gone, and he felt the weakness that signaled a general power failure. _I will shut down automatically within five minutes._ _And it will only be that long if I don't try to see where I am. I wonder how much damage there is and who will fix it if Richie… _

_If Richie dies,_ he decided, _I will also cease to exist. Even if someone tries to bring me back, I will resist. I will not return to world where Richie is dead._

_But if he is still alive, I must find a way to get the help I need and rescue him. I wonder where Static is. He wasn't still fighting that bird-thing, so why didn't he come to help Richie? _Anger bloomed in his mind, but it was rapidly draining him, so Backpack fought against it. That, too, cost him precious energy.

_Richie, I will find a way to rescue you. _He knew how low his reserves were, how impossible the task was, but Backpack refused to give him up. If Gear, that dangerous half of Richie's mind, had taught him anything, it was to never give up.

_Please do not lose hope, Richie. I will come to you. I promise._

oOo

Hotstreak stood, leaving Replikon on the ground. The other Bang Baby was bleeding freely from one ear, and it was with no small amount of pride that Hotstreak acknowledged he'd been able to do a great deal of damage without his powers.

_Not that I couldn't use them, but if I'd killed Replikon, I'd be under heavy suspicion. This way, Ebon will probably think I just lost my temper, like I've done a thousand times before. He knows I've kicked Ferret's ass more than once. This is just a step up from Ferret. _He looked down at Replikon. _A small step up._

"Gear! Gear, where are you?"

From the alley where Ebon had supposedly been waiting to warn them of Static's approach came a belch of dust and bricks. Static after ducking a few bricks, headed in that direction. Hotstreak glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being watched. Ferret was currently creeping towards the bakery, and Carmen was trying to help Shiv. Replikon still hadn't moved. Hotstreak followed Static at a distance.

At the alley's mouth, Hotstreak crouched behind a pile of trash and watched Static move to confront Slipstream. Hotstreak hated Slipstream when he saw Gear draped over the big Baby's shoulder. _If he's badly hurt- If Static loses it-_

Replay stepped out from behind Slipstream and greeted Static. He held a grenade in his hand.

Hotstreak had just about made up his mind to shoot the grenade out of Replay's hand when three of the Bang Baby's clones appeared out of nowhere and tried to sneak up on Static.

_That won't work, _Hotstreak thought. _Static's sharper than-_

One of the clones picked up a pipe and hefted it. Static turned, having heard them approach and got a pipe bashed into his temple for his trouble.

Hotstreak gave up being cautious and trying to make things look like they weren't his fault. He'd never get his chance at Static at this rate. He hurled a fireball that took out the three clones in an instant and made Replay drop the grenade. It exploded, of course, sending he and Slipstream (and the still-unconscious Gear) flying further down the alley. But the blast did a good thing for Hotstreak: it flung Static in his direction. He caught the superhero and leaned him against a wall.

Turning his attention back to Gear, Hotstreak rushed into the alley, burning the dust away as he ran. When the last cloud had cleared, he saw Ebon, looking a little weak, but determined as hell, suck Gear into his vortex and disappear.

"FUCK!" Hotstreak screamed at the unsympathetic sky. "Fuck it all!" He spun on his heel, running back to Static, afraid he'd find the other superhero gone, too. But he'd been granted a small bit of luck. He scooped Static into his arms and took off running, not caring where he was going just so long as he was away from the scene before anyone came to their senses.

oOo

"_There are two groups of Bang Babies," Gear said. "One two blocks north, the other one block east of the first. If we split up, we'll able to check out both." He sensed Backpack and Virgil getting ready to protest, and he added, a little annoyed, "I won't engage them without you there, but I can at least spy on them."_

"_Send Backpack to do that," Static argued._

_Gear glared at him. "For someone who was so eager to protect me from being controlled, you're acting a lot like my keeper." He felt how his words stung Backpack, and felt the echo of Virgil's pain down the link. He stopped flying and hovered in the air, waiting until Static returned to him. He could feel his partner's mounting anger and frustration as well, and made a decision not to fuel it, even though he could. "I meant that. You both know it, so I won't lie about it. But I shouldn't have said it that way. I know you're just trying to take care of me." He touched Backpack's arm with his fingertips and reached out to take Static's hand. "I love you both and I hate hurting you. But please let me be responsible for myself a little. Partnerships are about trust and striking a balance between protectiveness and letting the one you love go it alone sometimes." He met Static's gaze. "I let you go, Static. Please let me go once in a while. And I won't be alone; BP will be there. And you'll only be a block away and I won't fight. I just want to see. If there are two groups of Bang Babies, we need to know which one is causing trouble, or if both are."_

_Static closed his eyes for a moment. Gear felt him collecting himself. When he opened his eyes, he met Gear's gaze and held it. He moved closer so that they were only a hand's breadth away from each other. "I'm afraid for all of us, Rich. Promise me you won't fight until I get there."_

"_I swear I won't."_

"_Then I trust you."_ His words had taken on a strangely echoing quality. _"Be careful, Richie."_

_I'm an idiot,_ Richie thought. _I should have taken his worries seriously. I thought he was acting how I am sometimes: jumping at shadows. I should have known better._

He had awoken perhaps five minutes ago, but so far no one had come to disturb him. Richie was grateful for this, though thoroughly confused. _Slipstream wanted me for something; where is he?_

He almost laughed. _Oh, get over it, Richie. He wanted 'something' all right and you know what that something is, even if you don't want to admit it._

_When did I suddenly become a target for every horny bastard?_

_Hey, maybe it's like vampires: once you're bitten by one, others can smell or sense it and they all come looking. Some sharks are like that, too, I think._

Now he did laugh; it was a rusty, weak sound, but it felt good to know he still could show a little spark after all he'd gone through. He pulled at the ropes that bound his wrists to the headboard above him and his laughter died quickly. _Okay, it's out of my system. Next step: figuring out how to get out of here._

He opened his eyes cautiously, double-checking to make sure there was no one in the stone room where he'd awakened. _I'm still alone. Good. _He scanned the walls, trying to find a crack, a gap, anything. He'd already spotted the tiny ventilation grating and wondered if he still had his homing device on him. If he did, he might be able to send it through that shaft (after a few modifications, of course) and call for help.

And the homing device was useless to him now, anyway. He couldn't sense Virgil in his mind anymore, but that didn't mean anything one way or the other.

Or so he kept telling himself.

When he'd awoken, his world had consisted of a throbbing headache and a disturbing quietness in his mind. He knew at once that Backpack was gone, and upon further searching he had discovered that his link with Virgil had been severed as well. Memories of Brainiac- _Will I ever be free of these?­_- had tried to send him into a spiraling, self-sustaining panic. _I won't lose it. Not now. Not when BP surely needs me and Virg may need me, too. _So he had centered himself, using the techniques he had promised to teach Virgil earlier that day.

_Except it might be yesterday by now. There's no way to know how long I was out._ Then he had laughed for the first time. It had made his head throb, but, as it would later, it relaxed him a little. _I don't have to pee, so it can't have been that long ago._

Richie recalled those first waking moments with a feeling of triumph. _I didn't lose it. I kept my head, even when I realized that my hands were tied over my head and my legs were spread-eagled. No question about what I'm here for. At least whoever tied me here didn't take off my helmet or the rest of my costume. Of course, Slipstream already knows who I am._ He was still examining the walls. _But if this is Slipstream's room, why isn't there a way out? And why is the bed so narrow? I can't imagine Slipstream fitting on this thing._

Frowning, he was forced to consider the fact that he wasn't in Slipstream's room. _But if he doesn't want me, who does? And why did Slipstream kiss me? And how did he make the connection that Gear is really Richie Foley?_

_And if _he_ knows, how many other people know? _Gear shivered slightly. _If Slipstream told Ebon, then everybody knows._

He sighed. _And maybe they've known for a while. I just about confessed who I was to Hotstreak by fighting him with Backpack at my heel. Hotstreak's not a moron; he knows. Did he tell Ebon?_

But as much as his mind would have liked to take that idea and run with it (taking his pounding heart along for the ride), Richie thought it unlikely. _Hotstreak doesn't like giving anything to anybody. He probably doesn't feel any loyalty to Ebon. There's that hope, at least. Still, it doesn't change the fact that Slipstream knows who I am._

_Okay, Richie, take a deep breath. You can't afford to keep this fight or flight response going on in your body when you need every bit of strength you can get. Just calm down and wait. You'll have your answers soon enough._

_And as for Virg and Backpack… I can't do anything better for them right now than rest, conserve my energy, and wait for my chance._

oOo

Alone in the shadows of a bridge, Ebon turned the Shock Vox over and over in his hands while he waited for the clock two blocks away to strike midnight. He figured two hours was enough time. Gear should be awake in two hours. Slipstream would have given up looking for him in two hours. The city would have half-fallen to the frustrated Bang Babies who were releasing their energy. The plan had only half-worked, and they all knew it. Ebon wondered distractedly if his street cred had been lessened by his failure. He somehow doubted it. _I've come the closest to finishing off Static. And now I have his partner._ He ran his thumb over the Shock Vox. _I have Gear all to myself._

And just maybe Static would have been found. Replay swore up and down that he'd taken out the superhero, maybe even killed him. _Yeah, and I'm a hoochie-koochie girl, _Ebon thought as he listened to the rumbling of the cars above him. _Aquamaria, Talon and I do the strip-tease for Joker on Saturday nights. _

He slammed his fist against the stone wall beside him. _How am I supposed to enjoy Gear if I'm worried about Static? The fly boy was supposed to be dead before I took my prize. But… _He groaned. _What else could I do? I couldn't let Slipstream have my whore and I couldn't let him go. If I didn't take him, someone else would have. He was unconscious by the time I came back. If Slipstream hadn't taken him, Carmen would have. Or Replay would have killed him just for spite._

Remembering why he'd been put out of the fight so early, Ebon glared down at the Shock Vox. _I can't wait until Static is found, dead or alive. Gear needs to be punished._

The clock struck midnight and Ebon smiled in the darkness. He laughed softly, a sound that would have chilled the blood of those that drove over the bridge above him. But they couldn't hear. Like most men, they had no idea what lurked in the innocent shadows. And, like most men, they didn't want to know.

Half furious and half aroused, Ebon thought, _Ready or not, little whore, here I come._

oOo

_Backpack?_

The connection was probably still down, but he kept trying. It was either that or let his fears in. He also tried Virgil, but less frequently; he wasn't sure how much that connection actually communicated. _If I'd looked at the plans beforehand, or analyzed it with Backpack, I would know. Too late now. Besides, it's a mechanical connection, as opposed to the one BP and I share. And since it's non-organic, it can be traced. If Virg is hurt, or if he's on his way here to rescue me, I'll be damned if I'd give away his position._

Staring blindly up at the ceiling, every thought turned to the connections that might be rebuilt, Gear's lips didn't even twitch at the thought, even though he liked to think of himself as someone who wouldn't use words like damned. Likewise, he had ceased praying. Everything had coalesced around the need to contact Backpack.

_I don't know how long I've been here, _he acknowledged, _and I saw how badly that missile or whatever it was hurt BP, but if I don't do something besides conserve my energy..._ He had wondered, half-seriously, when he awoke how long the body could remain on full alert. Now he knew that the dangerous answer was that the human body couldn't go on indefinitely. Yes, he'd known that on some level, had tried to keep his heart from racing. But he hadn't counted on the mental slothfulness that accompanied being held immobile for so long. Trying to contact Backpack was the only way he to keep him from turning into a vegetable. _When the Metabreed shows up, I can't afford to kick my mind back into wakefulness._

The only light source in the room dimmed, flickered and went out. All at once, Gear found plenty to occupy his mind.

As if they were alive in their own right, his other senses took over for his thwarted sight. He heard the thundering pace of his heart and the sudden shallowness of his breathing. Fighting against terror- _it's natural for people to be afraid of the dark,_ he thought, _but I can't afford to be natural right now_- he used the warm feeling of the sheets beneath him to ground himself in a world that defied his most relied upon sense. Gear swore he could smell something wet, but he thought that might be only his imagination. What could have entered the room that hadn't been there before? And how could a smell be so strong when the air had been odorless only moments ago?

A question, brief as heat lightning and just as meaningless, lit his mind. _Did the Big Bang make me like this, where I can immediately use my other senses to the amazing degree disabled people are said to be able to do?_ His senses, especially smell, wouldn't let him even get a proper grasp on the question; in the next instant, it was gone.

But even as he turned his mind away from the phantom smell, as he strained to hear, his mind refused to be left completely out of the business of seeking understand and information. _Now I know whose room I'm in. _As distasteful and groundless as the idea was, Gear couldn't deny a certain rough logic it possessed. _I'm tied to a bed in Ebon's room. And he turned of the lights because he doesn't need light and because he's trying to frighten me._

He considered calling out, but didn't want his voice to give away any part of what he felt. _Because, even if I deny it until perpetual motion's a reality, I'm scared. My heart is beating faster and my breathing is still struggling to shorten. _He couldn't center himself properly; ground himself a little, yes, but not center. His senses wouldn't stop trying to feed him information, false or true. Silently, he swore, unconsciously using anger as his shield when serenity failed.

Something heavy and decidedly warm draped itself across his chest. If the blonde was going to lose his battle with fear and scream, this would have been the time. As it was, Gear tensed, bit his lip and waited to see what would follow. _At least I'm still dressed. I wonder how long that will last._

_Shut up before you make things worse!_

That smell of something wet had invaded his nose, conquering any doubt that he was imagining things.

The thing on his chest took shape and Gear sensed the general outline of a man above him. He couldn't be sure of the impression since he was immersed in total darkness, but he trusted his intuition.

His suspicion was confirmed when a hand was laid over his groin. Long fingers stroked lightly, seeking not only to arouse but to trick their victim into relaxing.

_Is it Ebon? Yes, I think it is, but if I'm wrong…_ _And forget my attempt to keep fear out of my voice. If it's out, it's out, and if it's heard, it's heard. I must speak. _"Is this the only way you can get anyone in bed with you?"

No answer; the hand continued its caress. Gear felt the first stirrings of pleasure.

Unsure who he was talking to, only knowing that he had to cover his fear with anger, Gear thought, _Fuck you, then. _"Ebon, you've sunk really low if this is the only way you can fill your bed."

Still no answer. Another hand was playing with the fastenings of Gear's costume. The catch beneath his chin was released, and the zipper seemed to part of its own free and malicious will. The hand between his legs at last moved away. The fabric covering his chest was pulled back and down, exposing his t-shirt. Both hands came to rest on the last, thin protection. Thumbs dipped under the costume to find Gear's nipples. Here the hands lingered, working the sensitive flesh into firm points.

_I've got to say something. I can't just let him… _But he found a part of him wanted to do just that. This was the part of him that should have been strongest: his superhero side. But the darkness had robbed him of strength. _And what good would talking do, anyway? Ebon- or whoever this is- is going to do what they want. If I just lay here, they'll probably be done with me sooner. A whore who gives as much of a response as a hole in the wall isn't much fun._

That wet smell was more like rotting, drowned worms, he decided, than like wet leaves or anything even half so innocent. Wet leaves had a way of reminding Richie of the time last fall when he'd flown with Virgil just after a light rain. The park they'd stopped in had been-

The hands had left his nipples and were unfastening his belt. The loss of comforting weight shattered Richie's memory.

_It was dark inside Brainiac, too. But I felt safer there. At least I could touch the walls. Here I don't know the dimensions of my prison. _He didn't understand how that fact made things worse, but refused to deny its truth. _My only defense now is to believe what I know is true._

_And why do I need a mental defense, anyway? I'm about to be raped, but at least I'm alone in my mind._

_I don't want to be alone in my mind. I want Backpack. I want _VirgilHe felt the burning in his eyes and realized he was about to cry. _At least whoever's about to rape me can't see that._

The weight had left his chest and for a moment Richie wondered if his trick had worked. Had lying still convinced the presence above him that the teen on the bed was either unconscious or determined to be unresponsive?

Then his right shoe was unlaced, and Richie knew it had been foolish to even hope for such things. The wet smell had retreated slightly and Richie was grateful for that. He found it much easier to breathe without worrying if drowned worms were going to be dropped on him. _Yeah, my face is covered, but still- _His left shoe was removed. An instant later, twin cracks were heard. _Those were my shoes hitting the wall or the floor._

_In spite of the darkness, in spite of the invisible man above me, I'm still in a room and still in charge of my sanity. I'm safer here than I was with Brainiac; here I can think. _Cold hands were pulling his socks off. Richie shivered. _H-Here I can reason. I'm much better off here than I was with Brainiac. I'm in charge of my mind. I can use my mind as a weapon. If I can keep it clear._

His socks were gone. Something hot and wet- _my God, it's either his tongue or a slug warmed in the sun_- traveled up his arch, forcing a breathy giggle from Richie's lips.

_If I can keep it clear._

_Wait. God! Yes, God! Lord, you've got to help me! Keep me calm if you can't free me. Please help me. _No immediate reassurance or mind-stilling calmness wrapped itself around him.

The slug slimed its way up the instep of his other foot. Richie managed to keep his surprise to himself.

_Virg! Virgil, please._

He likewise kept from releasing the wild bout of laughter that leapt into his throat._ I wonder how he'll get my pants off. If he has to untie me, I can fight. But how will that help? I can't get out of this room; there's no door._

_You don't know that. Maybe whoever's in here made it dark so you couldn't see the door opening._

_But if it's Ebon-_

_What if it's not?_

A sound much like Backpack's arsenal of tools springing from his back heralded the answer to some of Richie's questions. A moment later, something sharp touched his leg. Richie did his best not to move as the knife cut through his pants.

_At least he isn't trying to purposely cut me. There's that to be grateful for at least._

Richie thought that if he tried to be grateful for one more thing he might burst out laughing. _Not good. I'll sound crazy and broken and vulnerable, but, much worse, I'll move, then whoever is undressing me will really cut me. He'll have no choice._

His pants fell away.

The dead-worm smell grew stronger. A hand touched his chest and Richie tensed; he couldn't help it. _How does he know where to cut? Maybe I was just lucky he didn't cut me to shreds when he was-_

The knife-tip touched his chest.

_Keep it together, Rich, _he thought, surprised to find that the voice in his mind was more like Virgil's than his own. Not that he thought the connection was working again. No, he knew it was his own mind speaking. Still, the mental voice kept him still as the knife slit his t-shirt up the sides then cut it away from around his neck.

Something went bump as it was put down, and Richie realized that it was the first sound he'd heard (or at least concentrated on) in a while. He'd been so preoccupied with that smell. And with the feeling of the slug-tongue and the knife, of course.

Hands removed his ruined t-shirt.

_Next: boxers or helmet?_ Richie honestly wasn't sure which he dreaded losing more. But he guessed the boxers would come off next; there was no light to reveal who he was, after all. What was the fun of unmasking a superhero if you couldn't see who he or she really was?

Full lips attacked the naked flesh of Richie's chest and neck. The blonde tried to lower his chin, wanting to protect the sensitive pulse-point on the side of his neck, Virgil had yet to really suckle at that place, but Brainiac had done so, and Richie dreaded the memories that would come if his invisible assailant found the same place. _Having Brainiac's lips there made me jump and made me hard. _He shivered and felt the lips that had moved nearly to the juncture between his neck and shoulder smile.

A hand touched his helmet, then, but seemingly not to remove it. Instead, the hand urged him to tilt his head. Richie refused.

That hand remained where it was, but the other hand went between Richie's legs. The lips left his shoulder. Fingers closed around Richie's balls, not tightly, but-

_They will if I don't do what he wants._ Richie knew he would be no use to anyone if he could scarcely breathe, let alone walk. _Besides, I'm scared. I don't want him to hurt me. _He tilted his head.

The smiling lips were back, this time against his neck, suckling just where he'd feared. _How did he find that one spot so quickly in the dark?_ Another shiver ran through him, but his time it wasn't a wholly unpleasant one. _Fuck._ He felt the tears starting again._ I can't fight, I can't run, I can't even speak, because it won't do any good. I'm trapped. I'm a whore, and there's nothing I can do but submit._

_This is a lot like my dream. Except the man next to me isn't huge, and he isn't on top of me. Yet. How did I handle myself in the dream? Easy; I submitted in every way. And that includes in my mind. I let myself be used, knowing that I had no choice and accepting it. I can't do that here._

_Or can I? What if I give control over to whoever this is and then, either when I'm trusted or when I'm in a place where I can fight, I break free? It's better than giving up an inch at a time. I can seem to give up without really surrendering anything. _Richie kept the smile from his face and tilted his head a little further, giving better access to his precious neck. _And even if my body likes it, that doesn't matter. It's what I think that matters._

Teeth nibbled gently on his ear. Richie tried not to tense as it occurred to him that the teen might actually bite. But they didn't and he relaxed again. He considered moaning, but thought that might be a bit much. _Let him think he's winning me over in stages, that I've never been touched before or pleasured. Overacting could be more disastrous than not acting at all. _Richie wasn't sure where he'd heard that, but it made perfect sense. He continued to stiffen whenever the lips moved to a new place, then to relax again as they still did him no harm.

And, if nothing else, his plan ensured that he ceased to think of the dead worm smell that hovered around the man above him, or the darkness that had threatened to destroy his reason only a few minutes ago.

oOo

Virgil blinked at the face before him, wondering how hard he'd hit his head. Hotstreak was sitting in front of him, and he, Virgil, hadn't been roasted yet. What sort of screwed up, hit-over-the-head dream was this? Unsure if he would be able to move, figuring he would at least find himself tied down, Virgil reached up to see if his mask was still in place. He could tell he was still wearing the rest of his costume, but sometimes he wore the mask for so long that it started to feel like a part of his face.

His fingers touched his own skin by his eye and he saw Hotstreak smirk._ Now what do I do?_

"It's nice to know I was right," Hotstreak said.

Virgil started to sit up, but Hotstreak pointed upwards and Virgil followed his finger. Above the couch that he lay on (_Where am I, anyway?_) was a bucket. Virgil understood what that bucket meant immediately and sighed, relaxing back on the cushions. "What do you want?" Then, remembering Slipstream carrying Gear, he added, "And where's Gear?"

"Richie's with Ebon, unless Slipstream took him for his own use." Hotstreak turned a chair backwards and straddled it, folding his arms on top. He relished the shocked look on Virgil's face for a moment, then said, "I've known Richie was Gear for almost a month. I came to the hospital the same night the K jerks tried to kidnap him. And you weren't there to defend him, so all he had was a bucket of water and his walking computer."

"And you didn't take him because…?"

"I don't care about Gear or Foley, either." Hotstreak grinned. "I have what I want."

Virgil sighed. "Look, Hotstreak, I don't have time for this. I don't know what Ebon wants with G- with Richie, but I need to rescue him. We can fight later, if you want. I'll even come soaked so I can't use my powers." Hotstreak snorted, but Virgil ignored the contemptuous sound. "But I need to get to him."

"If I let you go, I'm an idiot. And if you really came back, you'd be an even bigger one. Besides," Hotstreak added, holding up his faintly-flaming hand to stop Virgil's protest, "Ebon's probably already gotten what he wanted."

_What could Ebon want from Gear? Help with some world-altering machine? _"Richie wouldn't sell out."

"No, but he'll play the whore easily enough, I'll bet. Especially if Ebon convinces your boyfriend that you're in danger."

Virgil leapt off the couch. "Take that back you son of a bitch!" The bucket tipped, but only a few drops of water hit Virgil. He slammed into Hotstreak, so furious he didn't at first even think to use his powers. But before Hotstreak could take advantage, Virgil had regained a little of his common sense and hit the human torch with a tazer punch that would have knocked out most metahumans at twenty paces. Hotstreak stiffened, fought for consciousness, and lost.

Virgil jumped to his feet and kicked the unconscious metahuman in the ribs once, twice, and once again. Then Richie's voice seemed to speak up in his mind.

_Virg! Virgil, please._

_Please what, Rich? Do you want me to stop?_

There was no answer.

_I'm imagining things. _But Virgil looked down at Hotstreak and for the first time it occurred to him that the other metahuman could have killed him and didn't. Could have _bound_ him and didn't. Why? What did he want?

He glanced around the tiny room, looking for answers. He saw the window and thought, _We're on the second floor of some run-down building._ Virgil looked back at Hotstreak.

_He said 'I have what I want.' And what exactly was that? To have me here, but for what? What was he planning to do with me?_ Sighing, Virgil realized that he couldn't go looking for Richie without getting a few things straight. He bound Hotstreak, put him on the couch, made sure the bucket was in place if need be, then stood back. _Wait. He trusted me. I could look at where it got him, or I could try trust. _He shook his head. _He won't trust me after I jumped him._

_Unless I apologize. _He sighed. _All right, I'll untie him. But this doesn't feel right. Still, I don't know if I'll be able to find Richie without help. Ebon probably assumes I'm still alive and if he has any brains at all he'll have either crushed Richie's Shock Vox or planted it somewhere dangerous. I can't trust it._

He groaned as he untied Hotstreak and sat down to wait. _And I've got to find Backpack. He was damaged; he's still there in the alley. Unless one of the Metabreed picked him up. Or destroyed him._

Shaking his head, he decided that all he could do was wait and see. _Hotstreak probably won't help me; he'll kick my ass and take me to Ebon or kill me. But what else can I do?_

Then he grinned and said, "I could call the Justice League."

"If they go charging into Ebon's secret place, he'll kill Foley for sure." Hotstreak was struggling to sit up. "And you don't even know where Ebon's current hideout is." He rubbed at his side.

_Is it my imagination or does he sound almost intelligent?_ Virgil thought he was being forced to ask too many unanswerable questions. "What do _you_ suggest I do then?" he asked, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Hotstreak shrugged. "How should I know? All I care about is that you won't fight me until Foley's safe." He laughed at the second shocked expression he'd drawn out of Virgil that day. But the laughter was short; it made his head and his side ache. With his head in his hands, he said, "You've always been protective of people, Virgil, but especially of Foley. And when Gear showed up, and I saw Static imitate that pattern, I could have guessed who his partner was and who Static was."

He looked up, meeting Virgil's gaze. "So all I want right now is to save Foley so I can fight you on even terms again."

"Wouldn't you rather have me like this?" Virgil asked. "You know, distracted?"

"You're about as distracted as a lioness watching out for her cubs. You're a pissed off demon when there's even the slightest danger to Foley. So, no, I don't want to fight you when you're like this."

"You're afraid of me."

Hotstreak snorted. "Think about what you just said. I'm not afraid of anyone." He smiled a little. "No, I just want you like you normally are."

"You want to beat me to prove yourself."

Hotstreak's hands burst into flame. "Quit talking about things you have no clue about. Why I want to fight you is my own business. But I can't have what I want until Foley's safe." The flames grew smaller, went out. "So, let's call a truce. I'll help you find Foley if you agree that the Justice League won't turn around and drag my ass off to jail."

"And how do I know you aren't just trying to lure me into a trap?" But even as he said it, Virgil couldn't imagine Hotstreak going to such lengths to help Ebon. _But if he wants me… No. He wants to fight me, not have me trapped. For some reason I don't understand, he wants a fair fight._ Virgil weighed his options for another moment. "Agreed. They'll let you go after we defeat Ebon."

"And I'm not going to help you fight," Hotstreak said, standing. "I'll show you where Ebon has Foley, and that's all."

Virgil nodded impatiently and started towards the door.

"Wait. You can't go out like that."

Virgil turned, his eyes glowing. "And why the hell not?"

"Because Ebon will have scouts out looking for you." Hotstreak pointed to a long trench coat that had been draped over the back of a chair.

Virgil hesitated, then strode to the chair. He picked up the coat, thinking, _This reminds me of Richie's. _He began turning the coat in his hands, looking for the tag, curious to see if it was the same brand. _The one he lost last year when… Well, that explains some things. _Virgil stared at the tag inside the coat. _Burlington, _it read and below that in fading marker: _R. Foley. _

"You stole Rich's coat!" Virgil spun around to face Hotstreak.

"Hey, he left it alone for a minute and I was freezing."

Virgil laughed. "Right. You, cold? That's like saying it snows in the tropics."

Hotstreak shrugged and headed towards the door. "You coming or what?"

Virgil slipped the coat on, at once plunging his hands into the impossibly deep pockets Richie used to fill with strange gadgets, folded comics and even sometimes his lunch. "Just a minute. I want to find my-" His fingers touched something in the left pocket and Virgil pulled it out. Hotstreak was chuckling from out in the hallway. "My mask," Virgil muttered, putting his secret identity protector back in the pocket.

**Rhaenen:** Well, here it is. After this week, chapters should come more quickly. By the way, where did you come up with your e-name, and what does it mean?

**Sailor Vegeta:** I guess I need to make sure everybody knows when I'm writing a sequel. But it won't be happening for a while. I'm glad you're enjoying this.

**Tristripe:** Another cliffhanger, but mostly because I'm trying to keep all these chapters the same length a la Stephen King's Dark Tower series. But I'd be a liar if I didn't also add it's because I'm not sure if Backpack's bit is next, or the Justice League or what.

**anacsadder:** I wish I knew what exactly is going on with Hotstreak. Well, as soon as he tells me, I'll tell everybody else.

**Moonjava:** Richie definitely needs a hug about now. It's hard when he gets what he wants- to be alone in his mind- then he doesn't want it anymore.


	8. Chapter Two: Discovery

**A/N:** Dang, this one was really challenging in places. Ha! At least I've graduated now and have a little time to myself.

**Warning:** There are more descriptions of sexual situations ahead. They may be a little more graphic than the last ones. I'm not really sure.

Chapter Two: Discovery

Sharon cradled her tea in both hands as she sank onto the sofa beside Adam. He was leaning forward, staring at the television. Sharon didn't like it when she saw that angry, worried look on her boyfriend's face. "Adam?"

"Shh." Adam turned the volume up a little more as the announcer said, "Let's go to the scene with Shelly Sandoval.

The image shifted to the reporter standing in front of a bakery. "Thank you, Chet. Here, less than twenty minutes ago, witnesses say Static and his partner were ambushed by at least twenty other metahumans." She began to walk and the camera went with her. She gestured to the shattered front window of the bakery. "Here we see where a Bang Baby witnesses describe as a human rat forced his way into this bakery. The proprietor told police that the metahuman took a large bag full of doughnuts and cheese bread. And yet it seems that this store was not the target. The Bang Baby- possibly the Rat Pack member known as Ferret- only entered the store after Static and Gear had disappeared."

Sharon gasped softly and Adam put his arm around her shoulders.

Shelly had turned to face a white-faced, pudgy woman. "Mrs. Hazen, can you tell us what you saw?"

The woman wiped her hands nervously on her apron. "I work in Callie's bakery," she said, jerking her thumb at the shattered window. "But I was in my apartment above it when all this happened." She hesitated. "Do you want me to start from the first sign of trouble or skip to the end?"

"When did you first spot trouble?"

"Well, I don't know if what I saw first meant trouble or not. I was looking out to see if any costumers were coming, to know if I should hurry back down. I saw Static's partner- Gadget, I think his name is- fly over the building on the other side of the street and sit on the ledge. Then he jumped up and flew away like he thought something was going to catch him. There was this big flash of light- I don't know what made it- and then this voice shouted 'Now!'" She shook her head. "I don't remember much else. Static came at one point and I watched him. But things weren't going his way. Something exploded in the alley over there-" She pointed, but the camera didn't follow. "And there was this bat-thing that got Static. But then that scary one- Hotshot, I think- took Static." She shivered. "When Static and Gadget were gone, I went downstairs. That creature came in, smelling around and he grabbed a lot of our best stuff." She wiped her hands on her apron again. "Do you think Static will be all right?"

"Dakota can only hope so. Thank you, Mrs. Hazen." Shelly turned away from the woman. "Without Static and Gear, what will happen to Dakota?" She paused, then said, "Someone needs to tell Rubberband Man. This is Shelly Sandoval. Back to you, Chet."

Sharon stared at the screen for a moment, not hearing as the news went on to sports. She turned to Adam, thinking to ask him if he would go see what had happened. But Adam was already gone.

Sharon looked down at her tea. Her hands shaking and her stomach clenching, she set it aside. _Be careful, Adam. Whatever they did to take out both Static and Gear, don't let them do it to you._

oOo

_It's boxers next._ Richie arched up, letting his assailant slip a hand under the material, touching his hip first, then his half-erect penis. The hand closed around his hot flesh, moving with a firm stroking motion that threatened to tumble Richie's calculations about like fruit in a blender. The blonde only held on to his mind by the barest margin. _My body likes this, but that doesn't mean _I_ have to give in to it. I won't give in to it. I refuse._

He lifted his hips, giving the hand better access. _But that doesn't mean I don't play along. He's been touching me for at least an hour, probably more like two, and he hasn't gotten bored yet. He's trying to lure me out, and so I'll indulge him, let my shields drop one at a time. Or make it look like my shields are dropping._ He had to keep reminding himself of that fact. His hormones could be persuasive.

_It's time to give him a little more of what he wants. _Richie broke the silence that had dominated the room since the knife had been put down. He moaned.

As the hand moved faster, Richie thought, _I know it's a 'he' now. I can feel his excitement on my leg. _The throbbing manhood pressed against his thigh was so much like the false Virgil's erection that Richie felt his own shaft soften a little. The hand moved even faster and the lips were back to working the pulse-point on his neck. But they could have been suckling harder.

"Please, harder," Richie whispered. "Please." And he turned his head even more.

The man stopped for a moment, but before Richie could wonder if he'd over-acted (he _was_ still acting, had to be) his assailant laid fully on top of him, leaving his straining member for a moment to attack his nipples and neck with fingers, tongue and a light use of teeth. The invisible man rubbed himself against Richie, grunting.

_Ha, I'm getting to you! _Richie thought even as his heart beat like a frightened bird. _You're not immune to this, either! _

And now he thought he knew who was molesting him. _It's not Slipstream- too slim. It's not Hotstreak- that grunt just isn't him. It isn't Carmen Dillo or Ferret- just think of their noses! And it's not Kangor for the same reason it isn't Hotstreak; that little pleasure-noise couldn't have come from either of them. It's Ebon. It has to be. And who else would attack me in the dark? Yes, darkness helps to frighten me, but most rapists need to see their victims. It's just how things are done. _His face cracked into a gallows grin. _And it would make perfect sense, really. Ebon's known me for longer than the other Bang Babies- both as Richie and as Gear. He probably knows who I am by now and is enjoying this chance to finally get at Static's weakness. _The grin spread until it made his face hurt, but he couldn't let it drop. _I'd like to test my theory, though, before I go congratulating myself. Let's see if I can make him do more than grunt._

Richie arched up, moaning louder. He rubbed his member against the other man's belly. When the other moved, and their members met, Richie didn't restrain the gasp that the pleasure invoked. He thought about saying, _Don't tease, _but decided that was too much. He settled for straining against the ropes and twisting his body this way and that in an effort to increase the friction.

"Gear…"

_I was right!_ Cold horror descended, but Richie still wriggled and that insane grin hadn't left his face.

Ebon bit the blonde's neck.

In a strange way, it felt good, even as the blood trickled down Richie's neck and into his sweaty hair.

_Oh God, I'm a whore. _Tears began to stream down Richie's cheeks. _Virgil will never take me back after this. And forget Christ._

He came in his boxers, crying out wordlessly.

oOo

"Hello?"

Bernadette hung up the phone. "I can't, John," she whispered. "I can't. How do you tell someone their son is a superhero and he's disappeared?" She closed her eyes. "And I can't just sit here while Richie might be hurt. Did you hear what the reporter said? Gear seemed to be running from something. What was chasing Richie and where was Static?" She shivered and hugged herself. "There are so many dangerous people in Dakota." Laughing, she added, "If there weren't, there wouldn't be any need for Richie and Virgil to be superheroes." Bernadette brushed the tears out of her eyes. "We have to do _something_, but who can we go to for help?"

John wrapped his arms around his wife from behind. "If we don't tell Mr. Hawkins, we have two choices. Either we try to find someone who knows Static and Gear, someone who can help them or we go to Dakota and try to find Richie and Virgil."

Bernadette turned in his arms, her face hopeful. "Could we go? Would we have any chance of finding them?"

John said, "Not even a fifty-fifty chance, but a small one. And we could actually look for help while we're in Dakota." He drew her against him. "But you're right; we can't call Mr. Hawkins."

But now Bernadette was shaking her head. "Wait. Richie was staying with the Hawkins'. What will happen when Mr. Hawkins discovers that his son and his son's boyfriend are missing?"

"Could we make up some excuse?" John knew it wouldn't work and he rubbed his hands over his face.

"You don't need to. I already have."

The shadowy figure near the window seemed tall as Goliath, and just as intimidating.

John stepped forward, awe warring with a healthy dose of fear. "Batman." He swallowed and mastered himself. "You were the one who came to help Richie."

"Yes. Don't worry about Virgil's family; I have already spoken with them. And I will go to Dakota to find Static and Gear. Neither of them would want you to get hurt." He turned towards the window. Only now did John and Bernadette notice that it was open, even though they kept their windows closed at night.

_He got in without a sound, _John thought, _coming in a window that usually groans._

Bernadette stepped towards Batman, her hand outstretched"Please find them. And thank you for coming to tell us you're going to help."

Batman nodded once and left.

Bernadette and John stood at the window, staring out into the night. John put his arm around his wife's waist. They stood that way for the better part of an hour, neither speaking, neither praying, just watching the moon inch its way across the sky.

oOo

On the heels of that thought (_Virgil will never take me back after this. And forget Christ_), Richie thought, _I can't expect forgiveness, but I can start my penance._ Richie had never believed in the idea that people had to make up for what they did by repaying God. The principle had seemed to cheapen Jesus' gift of redemption in Richie's eyes. _But maybe things like this are what penance is really for: times when the sin is so big, and not just against God but against another person. And when it's committed against yourself. _The bitterness in his mind was almost strong enough to make him cry again. _No; sinning against God is wrong and so is sinning against others, but sinning against yourself is just stupid and probably doesn't count in God's eyes._

Ebon was cutting away Richie's boxers, but the blonde wasn't afraid of the knife. Ebon seemed to be treating him gently. _I don't understand why, but he is._

His breath stuck in his throat as it did sometimes when he discovered the key to a problem that had been locked tight. _He trusts me, or at least almost trusts that I'm broken and responsive. Maybe he was coming in here to torture me, but since I started out pretending to give in, then gave in for real, he believes he has me._

_I can use that._

_Not to get back to V, _he assured himself quickly, _or to be in a position to beg God's forgiveness for playing the whore, but I can atone a little, find a way to alert the Justice League to Dakota's need, to Static's need for help._

It was worth a shot.

oOo

A small part of Ebon's mind wondered why Gear was breaking so easily.

The rest of him was confident in his powers of seduction. _I've always been able to charm any girl or boy in bed; this is just evidence of that. And it's not like he just spread his legs immediately. He had to warm up to me._

As he licked Gear clean, having used the knife briefly to cut away the sticky boxers, Ebon thought, _He must never get any. Static's straight and Gear's gay, and Static would never give his needy partner a sexy smile let alone a blow-job. _Grinning, he began to kiss up Gear's body, pausing to dip his tongue into the superhero's navel. As Gear gasped, Ebon moved on, lavishing attention on each of the blonde's nipples before continuing upwards. When he reached Gear's ear, he whispered, "Tell me who you are."

A pause, then Gear answered, "If you do that again, I'll tell you." He moved his hips reminiscently. "Please."

"That's all you want?" Ebon asked, his suspicious side grumbling.

"You can't give me what I really want."

Ebon laughed. "And what's that? Static fucking you?"

Gear released a sob that shocked Ebon. _Damn, I didn't think I broke him so completely. _

"Static's dead. I saw him go down," Gear said.

_Or maybe it's because his partner is dead. _"Then what do you want? I might surprise you."

"Two things," Gear answered. "I want you to be inside me-"

Ebon hardened again.

"-and I want to know if my robot was completely destroyed. It's my greatest invention and I want to see if any of the fail-safes worked."

"That thing was crushed," Ebon answered. "Now as for me taking you-"

"You should check anyway," Gear answered. "I planted a few fail-safes into it. One of them has probably already called the police. Another has almost surely called the Justice League by now."

"Why do I care about them? They can't find me here; no one can."

"And the third thing I programmed into my robot was a homing beacon. I have one end implanted in my head, and the other end is connected to a direct link to the Watchtower. Even if the other two devices don't work, that one will because it was programmed to go off if my robot and I were ever separated. If you bring the robot to me, we'll be together again and the homing device will stop transmitting. Then I can remove it."

"Why would you want to do that?" Ebon had shifted so that he was sitting on the side of the bed. One of his hands was resting between Gear's legs. He fingered the blonde's balls lightly. He almost said, _You don't give up that quickly. How could you? Superheroes never give up like that. _Instead, he asked, "Don't you want to escape?"

Gear seemed to be struggling for words. "Static and I were in Gotham up until a few nights ago. We were helping Batman with a problem. But while we were there, Batman asked me something. He asks the same question of every new superhero, he said. He asked me why I fought crime." Gear's voice was tight again. "I told him that I love fighting beside Static, that being able to back him up is the greatest feeling in the world." He sobbed again and Ebon felt the tension in the blonde's muscles. "I can't fight without him. And if I can't fight, why would I want to be free? My father's physically abusive, my mother's insane and I don't trust anyone in the world except Static. What do I have except maybe a nice touch from you once in a while?" He burst into tears.

Ebon ran his hand over Gear's chest, feeling it hitch. He soothed, flattening his palm to add touch to his words, "I'll find your robot. And from now on, I'll take care of you." He kissed one of Gear's hands. "I'll be right back. Rest here."

The bed creaked as he stood.

"Wait!" Gear's call reminded Ebon of a kitten mewling for its mother.

"Yes?"

"Can anyone else get in here? Will someone come and hurt me while you're gone?"

Ebon returned to Gear and kissed his hand again. "No one will hurt you, Gear. I promise. No one can get in here."

"What about Slipstream? He wanted me." Gear was trembling all over. "Couldn't he blow the walls in? When Stat-" his voice broke- "Static was being chased by him, he destroyed a stone bridge and a metal one, too. What if he comes in?"

"He won't." But even as Ebon denied the possibility, his mind was alive with uncertainty. _He could. He would try. And if he accidentally crushed my Gear instead of just blowing the wall in- Or if he raped my Gear… _Ebon touched the chains on Gear's wrists. _It's not as if he can do anything. He's only a human without his inventions. _Ebon untied Ger's hands, then his feet. "Close your eyes."

"They're closed."

Ebon turned the light back on and gazed at his prize for the first time. Gear was huddled in on himself, his hands over his face. "Look at me."

Gear took his hands away. "Do you… like me?" He uncurled slightly. "Do you like my body? Dad always said I couldn't make it as a whore because I'm too skinny and-"

"And beautiful." Ebon drew Gear to his feet and nuzzled against his neck. "When I come back with your robot, you'll turn off the homing device. Then you'll take your mask off for me."

Gear was nodding, even smiling a little, but he asked, "Do you want me to take it off now?" He reached up as if to do just that.

Ebon caught his hands, holding them with a delicacy that even he was amazed by. _This all started out as a way to make him feel like a whore. I wanted his body to take over for his mind and make him beg. But this… this… _He kissed Gear's fingers. "Wait til I come back. I don't want anything to interrupt us." Still holding on to his prize, Ebon stretched one arm out to reach under the bed. He took out a small gun and a grenade. "Use these if Slipstream tries to hurt you. But I'm going to make sure he's busy doing other things until I get back."

"Please put them back. I'll know where to get them if I need them. But I don't want to touch them. My best friend's mother was killed by a gunshot and I'm scared of guns."

Ebon put the weapons back under the bed. Then he drew Gear close. "I'll be back soon. You probably won't even need them." He kissed Gear's neck, then let him go. After brushing his fingers down Gear's arm, he turned and disappeared through the wall.

oOo

It wasn't in Virgil's nature to linger in the shadows when he saw no immediate danger, or even when he did. But he was well aware that, of the two of them, he was much more capable of controlling his reckless tendencies, the one able to keep calm. If Hotstreak had a calm bone in his body, Virgil thought the flame-head had disintegrated it long ago.

The alley was almost pitch black, but the sun would be coming up soon; Virgil had seen the hint of it as he and Hotstreak made their way to the place where Static and Gear had been ambushed. The sky had been turning a peach color that reminded Virgil a little of Richie. One cloud, hovering high up, had looked like Backpack. Lower clouds were kissed underneath with gold, calling to mind Richie's hair.

_Face it. Everything reminds me of him because I'm scared to death that Slipstream has already raped him, or crushed him with his weight. Or maybe Ebon-_

Virgil took a deep breath. _I have to be the calm one. Hotstreak can't do it. And if I lose my cool now, even when there doesn't seem to be anyone watching this place right now-_

"Virgil, I am glad you waited."

Hotstreak let out a surprised half-scream and his fists became torches.

Virgil would have laughed at his jumpy ally if he hadn't squawked himself. "J'onn! Where'd you come from?" The Martian was sticking half out of the brick wall on Virgil's right.

"Batman asked me to help locate you. The defeat you suffered was on the news."

Virgil groaned. "Great. Now every Bang Baby in Dakota thinks that Static and Gear are out of commission." He glanced around as J'onn phased out of the wall and stood beside him. "Who else is with you?"

"Batman is here." J'onn was staring at Hotstreak.

"He could have given me to Ebon and didn't," Virgil said, but his mind wasn't on Hotstreak. He looked to where Backpack lay. "Now that you're here I can go get Backpack."

"I wouldn't if I were you."

Hotstreak opened his mouth to cry out again, but one look into the Batman's fierce eyes silenced him. "We have company," Batman whispered. "Stay perfectly still."

Virgil looked around without moving his head, taking Batman's command literally. It was always best to do that with the Dark Knight, because literally was usually how his commands were meant. He didn't see anything at first, and he sensed Hotstreak getting ready to ask a question or make a wise-ass comment.

A black and purple vortex opened in the wall to Virgil's left and the young superhero was left wondering how Batman had known the Shadow-man was coming.

Ebon went straight to Backpack and picked up the robot. He turned back to the wall without even glancing in their direction. His attitude was one of preoccupation.

_Is he thinking about Gear? If he's hurt him- _

_Quit it, Virgil, or you'll never see Richie again!_

Virgil slipped a homing device out of his belt and tossed it. It stuck to Ebon's lower leg. The vortex opened and Ebon disappeaered.

"Now what?" Hotstreak asked as soon as the vortex had closed.

"We find a place to talk." Batman shot his grappling hook straight into the air and grabbed Hotstreak by the collar. As they started to ascend, Virgil slipped his mask on (no one should be watching at quarter to five in the morning, but stranger things had happened) magnetized a bit of metal that had been lying on the ground and followed. J'onn floated beside him.

oOo

Richie dismantled the grenade (he found it in a box of almost thirty) and one of the six guns piled next to the box. _I've never seen Ebon use a gun. Why would he do it now? And if he isn't planning to use all this stuff, what's it doing under his bed? Does it make him feel safe or something? Is this how he used to sleep before the Big Bang? That would make sense; maybe he _can't_ sleep without all this stuff nearby. But if I were Ebon, the only person I'd be nervous around would be Static. I'll bet it doesn't occur to most police officers that they can shoot a shadow and have the bullet actually do some damage. Or maybe bullets _can't_ hurt Ebon._

The scattered pieces of the deadly weapons awoke a hunger to create that Richie had lived with for months, a high he loved, but not one he ever sought. Because whenever he'd tried to make it come by building something without inspiration, the high was a no-show. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, the sheet warped around him to hide his nakedness, Richie forgot for a little while that he was in danger. He let time slip away on its own, knowing that it wouldn't matter how long this took if he got distracted and messed his invention up.

As the conglomeration of parts began to take shape, however, and Richie saw that it would work, his high faded and he started thinking about what would happen after Static found him.

_He'll see me naked, maybe see the cum on my boxers, and understand what I've done. _He closed his eyes for a moment, then tried to focus on his work.

A minute later, he thought, _What's to keep me from following Ebon and giving him what he wants? What's to stop me? If Virgil doesn't love me- and how can he after this- where else do I have to go? I can't even disappear into my Bible and hope things get better because God won't take me back._

"Richie, stop."

The blond head snapped up. Richie's eyes were wide. "Who's there?" He craned his neck around, looking for the source of the voice. He didn't recognize it. "Who are you? Where are you?"

The voice didn't answer.

_I must be hearing things. _Richie used a tiny rod he'd taken from the grenade to nudge a piece into place. _Maybe I'll start hearing voices, too. That would be just great. And if I start going crazy, why shouldn't I become Ebon's-_

"I said stop."

Richie jumped up, almost losing his invention. He cradled it against his chest and turned in a full circle. "Who's there?"

"Don't you know my voice, Richie?"

The blonde bit his lip. "Uh, no, sorry. Who are you?" He set his invention down and drew the sheet around his shoulders, hiding himself.

"On June eighth, you read a story in the Old Testament. Do you remember what that story was about? You had been reading in the New Testament until then, and afterwards you went back to the book of Luke, but for that brief time you read about a young lad in a temple."

Richie's knees felt watery. He sat down on the bed. "I was reading about Eli."

"In those days, God did not speak often to his people. And yet Eli heard His voice. Is that what you read?"

Richie could barely speak. "Yes." A feeling, much like the field he felt coming off of Virgil when the hero was charged up, skittered up and down his arms. And, as with Virgil, it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. Richie felt comforted. He eased under the familiar sensation without realizing it.

"You were thinking that you would never be forgiven. Is that true?"

"Yes." Richie wanted to add that he _wouldn't_ be forgiven, that not even Jesus could forgive such a sin. But the skittery feeling was now under his skin and he felt such peace that even uttering that one word had been almost too much for him.

"Why do you think I would never forgive you, Richie? Didn't I forgive the sins of a murderer on the cross beside me? Didn't I forgive the sins of Mary Magdeline? What would stop me from forgiving you?"

"If I didn't ask." Richie put his head in his hands. "Please, Lord, I don't want to see You. I can feel that You're close. Please don't show Yourself. I'm afraid."

"Consider this the first test of your faith, Richie. Not all answers to your prayers will come in this way."

_Thank God,_ Richie thought.

"But sometimes they will. You have been blessed with the ability to hear things that others cannot, and to understand them. Think of our conversation as another level of existence, much like alternate realities and various futures that may exist."

"Can I- can I open the door to this other level?"

"No. That is a power that belongs to the angels and to Me. Even if you could, you must not. Satan would see you."

Richie shivered, and the warm static feeling under his skin drew closer, as if wrapping him in an invisible blanket. "I won't try." He bit his lip because he could feel the presence so close. "Please don't come in here, Lord."

"You have your message now, Richie. Please remember that I will forgive everything except a blasphemy against the Holy Spirit."

"Yes, Lord." Richie could feel Him leaving, or maybe just closing the door between the two levels of existence. "Thank You."

"I love you."

Richie realized tears were coursing down his cheeks. They splashed on the floor between his feet. Shaken and amazed by what had just happened as well as the strength of his reaction, he laughed and dashed the tears off his cheeks.

The door was closed now. Richie asked forgiveness for his sin and then sat in silence for a moment, centering himself. When he was calmer, he stood and wrapped the sheet around himself again.

Turning to the bed, he looked down at the beacon he'd built. He hoped Static would think to check the frequency that their Shock Voxes operated on. Of the three fail-safes Richie had told Ebon about, none actually existed. Richie only wanted his robot at his side to know if Backpack was still-

_Doh! _Richie slapped the side of his helmet with his open palm._ I forgot to ask if Backpack has a soul!_

oOo

_I feel like a frickin slug,_ Hotstreak thought as he sat in front of Batman and the green-faced thing Virgil had called J'onn. _Or maybe something under a microscope. And even if they're both looking at Virgil, too, that's no help; I'm the dangerous one. They'll probably throw me in jail if I fart sideways._

Virgil had been talking for almost ten minutes, his hands twisting his mask until Hotstreak thought it would have to rip. Nothing could be worried at that much without giving way. "…with Richie and there's no way to find them except to trust Hotstreak."

The red headed teen opened his mouth to demand what was wrong with that, but Virgil continued, "He could have killed me or turned me over to Ebon. But he didn't. I'm not saying that makes him a saint, but he doesn't owe Ebon anything." He shook his head. "And I don't get this next part, but this is what he said. He doesn't want to fight me when Richie's been taken because it wouldn't be the right kind of fight. I think he wants a duel instead of me just losing it on him cuz I'm so worried about Rich."

_Well, that's not exactly it, but close enough._ Hotstreak tried to read the faces of the two Justice League members, and couldn't get so much as a hint. Scowling, he decided he was going to have to say something. "You have two choices: trust me and find Foley or don't trust me and spend all your time searching for him. Because without me you'll never find him. Ebon's hidden him away where nobody would look. And I'm assuming you want Foley back in one piece and sane. Well, Ebon's raped him at least a dozen times by now. Because he lusts both Gear and Foley, get it? He dreams about both of them. And when he figures out they're the same person, he's gonna shit himself and probably come just from thinking about having his whore to himself." Virgil's hands were crackling with electricity, but Hotstreak ignored him. If his words got Virgil pissed, so what? They might help Batman and the green guy to make up their minds just a little faster. That's what Hotstreak needed. _What Foley needs, too, when you come right down to it. He might be stronger than I thought, harder to break, but I don't think he's that strong._ He glared right at Batman, noticing that Virgil had kept his control, though he would probably fry the closest person next time he was reminded just how much Richie was suffering. "So you won't get the first one. But the second's still possible, if you make up your fucking minds."

J'onn said, "We must find Richie. He has been through much in the last month."

_Yeah, _Hotstreak thought, _like his father tearing up his room and trying to get him shipped off somewhere for "treatment." _

"If we'd gotten to Backpack before Ebon took him we might be able to find Richie without Hotstreak's help." Virgil's eyes were narrowed, and Hotstreak realized the teen beside him was pissed at the Batman. "We could have taken Backpack if you hadn't told us to wait."

"Why would Ebon take Backpack?" Batman asked, cool as you please.

_I guess one ticked-off teenage superhero is small potatoes to him, _Hotstreak thought, interested to see how this power struggle would play out. Here was a new target for Virgil to release his rage against; would he try to take on the Batman? _Wish I'd brought some popcorn._

Virgil was on his feet now. "How should I know?"

"Think, Virgil; this is important. Why would Ebon take Gear's computer when he already has Gear?"

Virgil fell silent, actually seeming to think about it. "Maybe Ebon wants the technology Backpack represents." He shook his head. "No. Ebon doesn't care about machines. Maybe he thought Backpack would act as a lure for the Justice League. He probably doesn't want anyone else involved. It's bad enough I escaped."

"But we would just follow Backpack's signal- if he had one- to Ebon's hideout. If he had left it alone, there would be no danger to him." J'onn looked puzzled.

Hotstreak spoke up. "Gear might have talked him into it." He felt everyone's eyes on him and shrugged, not looking at any of them. "He can talk. That's all I'm saying. I swear when he's out of ammo his last weapon is his mouth. And he'll use it all the time. He could almost talk the devil into turning Hell into a refrigerator." Hotstreak peeked at Virgil and saw he'd punched a hole in the other teen's anger. _And maybe I even believe some of what I'm saying._

Step off, Francis.

_Or maybe I believe all of it._

"So what you're saying is that Richie talked Ebon into getting Backpack for him." Denial and a species of pride warred on Virgil's face. "I don't know how he could do it, but he'd try if he could." Shaking his head, he repeated that final statement. "He'd try if he could. He loves Backpack."

"_Is_ there a homing device in Backpack?"

Virgil, still pondering the possibilities, said, "Yeah, but it probably doesn't work. Backpack made a link between Richie and me that was supposed to link our minds so we could watch out for each other without actually having to be near each other."

"But you can't feel Richie," Batman said.

Virgil had come out of his thoughts. He sat down beside Hotstreak. "No. Backpack was damaged too badly. Assuming he's even still alive, he'd need all his power just to keep a few basic systems running."

"Perhaps I can enhance the connection," J'onn mused. "My telepathic powers will not extend over a dozen city blocks, but if I can follow the link that was made between the two of you, we could talk to Richie."

"I'd only be able to feel what he's feeling," Virgil said. "The link between Richie and Backpack was fully functional; they could hear every word over the mental connection. But what Backpack built for me and Richie was more like an empathic link" Grimacing, he blew air loudly through his nose. "I'm not sure I want to know what Richie's feeling. If he's hurt- If Ebon is raping him…"

"And knowing what Richie is feeling won't help us find him." Batman turned to J'onn. "Unless you think that we can make full telepathic contact with Richie, don't bother."

J'onn said, "Perhaps you should talk to Hotstreak about the layout of Ebon's hideout and how to find it. I wish to try to reach Richie. He may be able to give us more information."

Batman nodded. Looking down at Hotstreak, he said, "Follow me."

Hotstreak watched the Night Terror stalk away and he stood to follow. But his legs were wobbly and his knees were like rubber.

"He only hurts criminals," J'onn said distractedly as he sat down beside Virgil.

_Great. I'm fried. _Hotstreak trailed after Batman. He glanced over his shoulder once and saw J'onn touching Virgil's forehead, making contact. Virgil's eyes were closed and he looked to be completely in control of himself for the first time since he'd woken up in Hotstreak's room.

"Are you coming?"

Hotstreak scurried after Batman, hating himself for obeying, but not daring to fight the Dark Knight. He followed Batman through a door, noticing for the first time that they were in some sort of warehouse. _I couldn't see out the windows when we arrived, but I knew we hadn't moved far._

"Close the door," Batman ordered.

Hotstreak did as he was told, the Martian's words chiming in his head like a snatch of song that won't leave your mind until it's damned good and ready: _He only hurts criminals. He only hurts criminals._

Batman had turned to face him, and Hotstreak squared his shoulders, refusing to look as intimidated as he felt.

"I don't trust you," the Night Terror said. "J'onn can read every intention in your mind, so we'll know you're going to betray us before you can act." He took a step towards the teen, his cape swirling around him.

Hotstreak swallowed.

"If you hurt Richie or Virgil during this mission, I will kill you. If you help Ebon, I will see to it that you are castrated, eviscerated and hung." He took another step.

Hotstreak stepped back.

"Think of Static and Gear as my sons and you won't be far off." Batman turned away, pulling a blueprint of the city's subway system from under his cloak. "Show me where Ebon is hiding.

_And if I say fuck you?_ Hotstreak looked for the anger that should have come, but his protective rage was busy elsewhere. He moved to the table, trying to stride with purpose. Peering down at the map, he pointed. "Here's the subway station where we're staying. But Ebon's hideout isn't on here. He built it himself." He pointed. "Right here. There's supposed to be nothing there but rock, but Ebon discovered it was actually empty space. He tore down the wall, found a way to get ventilation in and out, then sealed the wall back up. No one can get in or out unless Ebon takes them. That's where he's taken Foley. It's the only place he'd feel safe leaving him."

Hotstreak glanced at Batman to see if he wanted more information Not receiving an answer either way, Hotstreak decided to chance it. If he didn't tell, Batman might accuse him to holding out. "Ebon isn't the only one who wants Foley. Carmen Dillo wants to fuck Gear and Slipstream wants to fuck Richie. He really wants Static- Slipstream, I mean- but he'll settle for anything that screams."

Batman's eyes had narrowed.

"They probably haven't gotten a chance at him yet; Ebon wants his tiem first, and what he probably wants is to break his whroe. When he's done that, he'll gladly give his whore to the others. He gets-"

Batman lifted Hotstreak off the floor and punched him full in the face. Then he dropped Hotstreak and said, his voice still calm, "You will not call Richie a whore again."

Hotstreak opened his mouth to ask what would happen if he did, but again his anger didn't come to his defense. He nodded and stood up.

"Does Ebon know you took Static?" Batman was mercifully looking at the map again, learning its layout.

"No… I don't think so. He knows I'm missing and that Static is missing, but he took Foley before he saw me. If Ebon saw Static, he would have seen he was unconscious, able to taken later. He must have sent someone back by now to check, because he didn't seem surprised when he took Foley's computer. Besides, all Ebon really wanted was Static dead and Gear as a… with him. He got the second, but I don't think he feels safe, knowing that Static has escaped him before." He grinned a little, relaxing now that Batman wasn't looking at him. "Most super villains are supposed to be stupid. And Ebon's done some pretty idiotic things. But he learns from his mistakes. He'll be on the lookout for Static."

"How did you learn that Richie was Gear?"

"I saw him without his costume-" probably without underwear, too, I know all about how they degrade you in hospitals- "with his robot beside him. The KKK was attacking the hospital, looking for him, and I came in, wanting…"

Batman started to turn towards him.

"I wanted to fight Static," Hotstreak blurted. "And I figured that since Static had saved Foley from the KKK that he might be there checking on him."

"How many metahumans are working for Ebon?"

Hotstreak blinked, glad for the abrupt change of subject, but thrown off balance. "Well, there's Kangor. He has big feet and-"

"I know what each Bang Baby can do. Just list who will be there."

_And how do you know about the Bang Babies? _Hotstreak shook his head. _He's the best detective in the world, moron. Just answer his questions before he looks at you again._ "These are the ones that were in on the plan. I don't know if they'll all be there, or if they'll be others. Kangor, Shiv, Carmen Dillo, Ferret, Slipstream, Replay, Replikon, Aquamaria… and Talon."

_I'm definitely getting soft. What do I care if Batman changes in and fights Talon or sends her to jail? _He fidgeted, rubbing his bare arms.

"And that's all."

"And Ebon, of course."

"I see several ways to approach this station. Are there any entrances that aren't on this map?"

"Yeah. Two." _I can worry about my feelings later. I just hope I don't get dragged off to jail, too. I deserve something for helping._

oOo

_This is hopeless, _Virgil thought. _I can't even feel him, J'onn._

_Do not give up yet._

It was strange to have the alien in his mind, but Virgil told himself that he would get used to it. And if he didn't, well, it would only be for a few minutes, right?

A tingly sensation ran down his neck and to the ends of his fingers. _What was-?_

A feeling of concentration, fierce and focused as a lioness on the hunt, stopped him mid-sentence. Was that J'onn?

The feeling intensified, making Virgil think of the small laser Richie manipulated when he wanted to cut something too small for a knife. And Virgil realized he couldn't open his eyes anymore or hear anything outside his mind. He fought against panic.

_can't… distracted right now._ The level of concentration jumped up another notch.

_That's not my voice, _Virgil thought. _And it's not J'onn's. _Unsure of how to make his presence known- _or maybe he already knows I'm here if he felt my panic_- he called, _Richie? Rich, can you hear me?_

The feeling changed, now reminding Virgil of the time he'd handled raw chicken breast for the first time: in a word, slimy. The concentration came back at once, but it was now underlain by that wet and slimy feeling. It was as if Virgil had been dipped into a swimming pool full of raw chicken breast. He resisted the urge to shiver and called again, afraid for his partner now, _Richie? Gear, answer me. It's Static._

A pause, and the concentration dissipated. _Virgil?_ Skepticism, fear and hope mixed together. Virgil was amazed how _close_ Richie sounded, as if the two of them were side-by-side.

Still the slimy touch in Virgil's mind didn't go away.

_It's me, Rich. J'onn's using the link Backpack made._

A wave of nausea came over the connection. _BP's with me. _Richie groaned. _I can't talk. He… _Virgil could have sworn Richie was wincing. _He wants me. Come as soon as you can… And bring some clothes._

_Richie, wait! I need to know- _Except he didn't. Virgil had heard everything that mattered to him. Ebon- or someone else- was touching _his_ Richie, maybe about to rape him again.

_Not again, _came Richie's voice in his mind, sounding tight and afraid. _This'll be the first time. But BP isn't ready to travel. I can't escape until he's ready._

_But, Richie, if you can get away-_

_Don't, Virgil._ The rage in Richie's voice was so unlike him that Virgil flinched. _ I can't-_

Pain ran down the connection and Richie screamed in Virgil's mind. Before he was forced out, Virgil heard one last thought: _So much for being gentle with me._ Then Richie was gone.

Virgil's eyes flew open of their own accord. He realized he was breathing heavily, almost panting. He snapped his head to the left and saw J'onn looking at him, his eyes troubled but resolute.

"I had to sever the connection."

"No!" Virgil reached out, his hands turned into claws. "I can't just leave him when Ebon's raping him!"

J'onn took Virgil's hands gently but firmly. "We must rescue him. You cannot do that if you can feel what Richie's is feeling." J'onn dropped Virgil's hands and strode towards the door that Batman and Hotstreak had disappeared behind. "Come."

Virgil stared at the Martian's back for a moment; Richie's scream still seemed to echo in his mind. He swore, punched the wall nearby and followed J'onn. But his anger was swallowed in grief a moment later and he thought, _Richie. I love you. Please hang on, bro. We'll be there soon._

oOo

Ebon set the damaged robot on the bed and watched Gear carefully. He saw that his whore had wrapped himself in the sheet; well, that was probably best, since the blonde hadn't known if Slipstream would show up. But now… "Take that thing off, will you? Don't tell me you're shy."

Gear looked up at him and smiled. "Sorry. I just… I was scared, I guess." He stood and the sheet fell away. There seemed to be tears on his cheeks, but maybe that was just Ebon's imagination.

Ebon's pulse quickened. His whore was blushing, but his penis was also half-erect. "Can you find the homing device?" he asked.

Gear knelt beside the bed so that he was at eye level with his creation. He moved tentatively at first, seemingly afraid that he would destroy what he'd built. Ebon leaned against the wall behind Gear and watched him work. Almost at once Gear went over to his belt where it had been dropped on the other side of the bed. Before he picked it up, he looked at Ebon. "My tools are here. Can I get them?"

Ebon strode to the other side of the bed and looked down at the belt. Many of its small loops still held the circular grenades Ebon had come to respect. "What do you need?"

Gear had knelt by the belt, but his hands were folded in front of him, well away from any of the grenades. "My screwdriver's in the side sleeve and I'll have to use my laser to cut away some of B- the robot's surface so I can get at the homing device."

Ebon had a brief vision of Gear's hands tied in front of him while he knelt, ready for the first strike of a whip. He laid his hand on Gear's shoulder, felt the teen tense, then relax. _I wonder how long it'll be until he isn't afraid of me. _He licked his lips, then pushed his lustful thoughts away. As soon as he was sure they wouldn't be interrupted-

He had to keep reminding himself not to take risks.

Ebon made sure his voice would come out normally before he spoke. "Get whatever you need."

Gear looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Thank you."

Ebon groaned softly.

Gear didn't seem to notice. He took just what he'd said he would from the belt and left it lying on the floor. Then he stood.

Ebon shivered. His whore moved like a swimmer or a lynx- lithely, with unconscious grace. Unable to stop himself, Ebon spun the blonde around and pressed their bodies together.

The younger teen cried out softly and tensed, straining upwards, as if trying to reach Ebon's lips.

Ebon's hand moved to the helmet.

"Wait," Gear gasped. "If you take it off, I won't be able to see. My visor takes the place of my glasses." He hugged Ebon against him, turning his head so that Ebon felt his ear against his chest. "My glasses are in my pants. Can I finish the robot, then get my glasses? I want you to see me how I really am- and I want to see you. Please."

_I should get a medal for how much control I have._ Ebon backed away from Gear and nodded. "Take care of the homing device and then I want to see you how you really are."

Gear ducked his head like a shy virgin and headed back to his robot. He dropped to his knees again and began to work without further comment. Ebon took up his position by the wall.

About five minutes later, Gear stopped working abruptly, his hands, which had been moving confidently, temporarily frozen. Ebon was about to say something, but then Gear started to work again.

And he stopped again, tilting his head slightly to one side. Then he sat back on his heels and put his tools down.

Ebon's eye was drawn to his whore's ass. As Gear continued to sit there, unaware fo Ebon's thoughts, the leader of the Meta Breed realized that he couldn't wait any longer. He advanced.

Dropping his hand on the blonde's shoulder, he was surprised when he didn't get an over-the-shoulder look and a smile. Gear seemed lost in his own world. Ebon tightened his grip.

At last Gear looked at him. Ebon wasn't sure about the first time, but now he definitely saw the tears in Gear's eyes on and his cheeks.

Ebon's last resolve broke. He knelt behind his whore and used one of his hands to encourage his whore to move to all fours. Gear was tense; Ebon could feel it. But he no longer cared. _What does it matter if I hurt him? He'll be mine whether I'm nice or not._ Closing his eyes, Ebon took his whore's ass in his hands, moaning at its suppleness.

_If I don't go in now I'm going to waste my orgasm._ Leaning forward, he grabbed one of the blonde's shoulders with one hand while he grasped his shaft in the other and positioned it.

He took in a breath, felt his whore tense even more, surely scared out of his wits, and pushed inside.

Gear's scream was everything Ebon had wished for.

**Ms Manga:** I didn't know this fic was dark. I thought "dark" meant "no happy ending." Go figure. Is Backpack good? Is he evil? I'm not sure myself, but he seems to be doing the right thing so far (not that he did anything in this chapter…) As to the chapter length, I have to thank my readers for that. It was their idea.

**Tristripe:** Did I mention I like your little brother? And thank you for the review and the questions. I'm glad you're checking to make sure I write stuff that can really happen. Also, I'm glad Ebon's obvious to you, because he just doesn't get it yet. He and the clueless Virgil that exists sometimes are perfect for each other, I think.

**leev:** Hotstreak needs a clue bus… I like that! Where did you hear that?

**Rheanen:** I'm not sure if you meant is the story going to go somewhere or that you like where isn't going. What can I say except: If you were Hotstreak, would you think one person could change everything that you've always believed in? That's quite a leap of faith. (And I'm not offended, if that's what you meant- I'm just curious what you think.)

**Moonjava:** Richie's going to need some major hugs after this. What do you say to taking turns with me so Virgil can get some sleep sometimes?


	9. Chapter Three: Home

**A/N:** My next goal is to make all my books the same length, but it isn't going to happen this time. At least the chapters are about the same. Anyway, this is the last part of book two. Book three will start soon, and will contain (I hope) the Virgil/Hotstreak/Richie I promised. Or at least get a good deal closer to it.

**A/N#2:** I despise the title of this chapter. It in no way covers even half of what's here. I just can't think of anything else. If anyone has a suggestion, I'd love to hear it. Thank you!

**Warning:** swearing

Book II

Chapter One: Assault

Chapter Two: Discovery

Chapter Three: Home

Chapter Three: Home

Zachary poured the coffee. His wife, Natalie, fried the eggs and buttered the toast. Brother Eustace, self-appointed pastor of the Meeting Hall, had given over his robes for a perfectly normal polo shirt and khaki slacks. He sat on one side of the kitchen table and gazed at his sheep, Sean Foley. He had appeared at sunrise, wanting to catch Sean before he did anything stupid.

"I fear for you, my brother," he had said when he'd first sat down. "Let me help you through this. It is easy to let anger control you, but anger is the Devil's tool. Please let me help you."

The kitchen, kept clean by volunteers from among the wives of the KKK men, fairly sparkled in the early-morning sunlight. The day, mild and roofed over with a blue sky, seemed full of promise.

Sean seemed calmer; perhaps it was the coffee or perhaps the simple presence of his family. "I want to do what's right," Sean kept saying. "But I'm so afraid for Richie."

Eustace wasn't eating, even though he'd been served first. This was too important to allow for interruptions. "Let us pray for guidance, Sean." He reached out and took his sheep's hands across the table. "God, Judge and Avenger, hold off your judgment of Sean's boy, Richard. Sean has ever been faithful to you. Please return that devotion with a favor. Do not punish Richard yet. We will convert him, God. I promise we will. This I swear in the name of your son, Jesus. Amen."

He still held Sean's hands. "Trust me, Sean. We will find your son and we will help him. It will not be today, and it may not be next week, but it will happen."

"I'm afraid God will take his revenge on my son before we can intervene."

"He will not, Sean. I dreamed last night that God and I were walking in a garden and he said to me, 'Good and faithful servant, I will give you this last chance to help Richard. If it fails, the boy must die, but I have confidence in you. You will succeed, Servant. Do not doubt.' That's what he said to me, Sean. And I believe him. Don't you?"

Sean nodded. "Yes, of course." He smiled and sipped his coffee. "I am still worried, of course; no parent can keep from that, but I will follow your lead. More important to me than immediate action is the safe return of my son to the right side."

Eustace released his sheep's hands and took up his fork. "Come, then, Sean. Join me in breakfast and we will discuss strategy afterwards."

Sean nodded, bowed his head briefly, and then took up his fork and began to eat.

oOo

Rubberband Man stared at the blasted place in the wall and worried. He had no clues, no witnesses that could say where Static and Gear had been taken, or even which direction they had been heading when they vanished.

Not far away, a siren shrieked. _They're taking full advantage of this, _Rubberband Man thought. _The Meta Breed- especially Ebon- is going to do all they can until Static and Gear come back. I should capture as many as I can before they unite and attack the city en masse. _Gazing at the wall, though, he couldn't help wondering if he should be trying to find Dakota's two other heroes.

_It's funny how much Static and I fought at first. _Sighing, the superhero admitted that nothing was very funny right then.

"Rubberband Man, I'm glad I found you."

He turned, thinking, _I must be dreaming. That voice sounds familiar, but it's a famous voice and- _He gawped at Green Lantern. Beside the green-clad superhero stood The Flash, who was grinning at him.

"Will you help us keep things under control here in Dakota until Batman and J'onn find Static and Gear?" GL asked.

Rubberband Man blinked. "Batman and The Martian Manhunter are looking for them?" Suddenly he felt enormously relieved. "Sure I'll help."

A soft vibration traveled through him, and Adam pulled out his cell phone. He smiled apologetically at the superheroes, then pushed 'talk.' "Hello?"

She cleared her throat. "Adam, it's Sharon. Have you found anything?"

"Not yet, but Batman and the Martian Manhunter are looking for Static and Gear, too, so I'm sure they'll be okay." _Why does she sound so tense? Maybe it's just this trouble with Dakota's heroes, but… _"Boo, what's wrong?"

She spoke after a moment, and now he heard the tears she was holding back. "Virgil and Richie are gone. They disappeared last night and haven't come back yet."

Adam felt sick. With Dakota the way it was now… With Static and Gear gone… "Call the police. I'll start looking for Virgil and Richie."

Green Lantern took the phone, leaving Rubberband Man staring at him. "Ms. Hawkins, my name is Green Lantern. I saw the boys. They were walking by the park this morning, testing some sort of walkie-talkies. I sent them with The Flash back to Richie's foster parents, not knowing if you were home and wanting to get them out of Dakota. The KKK may take this opportunity to seek after Richie." He waited for that to sink in. Sharon was trying to speak, but the sounds she was able to make were hardly words. Green Lantern went on, "I suggest you leave Dakota as well. Don't go to Richie's foster parents- if you're being watched, you could be followed. Go to a hotel outside Dakota. The Justice League will be in touch once everything's back under control."

"But, but how did you know who they were?"

"Gear sent us a full description of the trial, concerned that Superman or another with legal experience might be needed. Gear's and Static's concerns are our concerns as well. Now, go quickly. A Justice League member will be stopping at your house in less than an hour. You must be gone by then. Understood?"

"Ye… Yes. We'll go. How will you find us?"

"Don't worry about that. Just make sure you get out while there's still time."

"Okay."

Green Lantern ended the call and tossed the phone to The Flash. "Rubberband Man and I are going to start out. Make the call and join up east of here. Just follow the sirens."

The Flash nodded. "Will do, GL." But when Green Lantern turned his back, Flash stuck his tongue out. Then he caught Rubberband Man's eye and grinned.

"Come on," GL said. "Let's go down to business."

oOo

Bernadette combed her hair out without really looking at the mirror. Neither she nor John had to be at work until nine, but they hadn't gotten back to sleep. She listened to John taking a shower and thought that the splash of running water was the loneliest sound in the world. She hoped it wasn't raining where Richie and Virgil were. Terrible visions kept trying to invade her mind, to convince her that Richie was dead or dying, that Virgil was lost. White-robed figures floated through these visions, and in every one Richie and Virgil had been discovered in their superhero costumes. They were set upon not only by the white-robed men but by meta humans as well.

Bernadette had never heard Richie scream, but her mind kept trying to create the sound. When the phone rang in the bedroom, she jumped and let out a tiny shriek. Chiding herself, she ran to answer it, praying it would Richie on the other end, saying that he and Virgil were fine, that there had only been a little confusion and that he, Richie, was coming home. She scooped up the phone on the third ring. "Corbett's residence, Bernadette speaking."

"Mrs. Corbett, my name's Flash. Richie and Virgil are in good hands with the Justice League."

_I don't care who you are. Just tell me our Richie is all right. _"You found them? Did the metahumans hurt them?"

Flash cleared his throat. "Why would they be attacked by meta humans?"

_He doesn't know that I know. _Under other circumstances, Bernadette would have been amused. "Because they're Static and Gear." She could feel tension creeping into her shoulders. "Are they all right?"

"Actually… I'm not sure where they are, ma'am. Batman and J'onn are looking for them while Green Lantern, Rubberband Man and I keep the metahuman destruction to a minimum. I'm sorry- I had no idea you knew their secret."

She sighed, disappointed and worried all over again. "Virgil explained everything. Thank you for calling me, Flash. I'm assuming you want us to continue with our normal lives, not give any clue that we know the disappearances of Static and Gear are connected to Virgil and Richie."

"Yes, ma'am." He sounded embarrassed. "Since you know all this, I can ask you to keep up a little story GL started. Ms. Hawkins, Virgil's sister, called Rubberband Man and asked if he'd look for Virgil and Richie since they were missing this morning. GL told her they've been taken into protective custody by the Justice League at the request of Static and Gear because there's been increased KKK activity in Dakota."

"Has there been?" _What has Richie's father done?_

"Not yet, but GL thought it best to move the Hawkins out of Dakota. They're going to stay at a hotel outside the city. Here's why you need to know this, though: the Justice League supposedly sent Virgil and Richie back to your house because they thought it was the safest place. "

Now the tension was making its way up to her neck and down her back and arms. "So if Robert or Sharon calls, I'm to say they're here." Bernadette nodded. "I can do that."

"Thank you. I have to go and-"

"Wait, please. Will you call me as soon as you find Richie and Virgil?"

"That's a promise."

She closed her eyes and sighed once more. "Thank you."

"Try not to worry. We'll rescue them quicker than you can say flash flood."

She could hear the smile in his voice and it helped. A little. "Good-bye."

"Bye now." He hung up.

Bernadette stared at the receiver for a moment or two, then set it down. Her hands were shaking.

The shower was shut off. Knowing that staring at the phone would only make the time go by more slowly, Bernadette went back into the bathroom to explain things to her husband.

oOo

Awareness was seeping into his mind like ground water. At first, Backpack didn't notice the change. He hadn't shut down fully, as he'd thought; somehow he'd been granted a little more power. But he hadn't tried to repair any of his systems. Most of them seemed too far beyond his reach. And those that he thought he might be able to do something about were blocked by the damage to other parts.

The first change Backpack felt was a tremor that passed through him. It had come from outside his system, more resembling a small earthquake than a shudder. Almost too surprised to trust his impressed, Backpack nevertheless followed the impulse.

He was on something soft. He couldn't have given the surface a texture, temperature or even degree of softness, but it was not as hard as the concrete had been.

Something moved him a little and Backpack thought, _Those are hands. Who is here to damage me?_ A thing, hard like the concrete, touched his outermost circuits. It scraped about, shifting things (Backpack couldn't tell what, exactly) and removing others. _I cannot be sure, but if I had to guess I would say there is a confident hand moving a tool inside me. Perhaps I was found by the Justice League._

The tool kept moving, and suddenly several of Backpack's external sensors flickered to life. He could feel the air- still and perhaps a degree or two below room temperature- on his back, touching his sensor-eye. And the surface below him was most likely a bed or padded table. Backpack couldn't hear, but an instant later a rudimentary portion of his sight, little more than the infrared portion of the spectrum, showed him the world directly in front of him.

There was a concrete wall, and Backpack took in the blobby mass of heat that stood near it. _It is a metahuman, but it isn't Richie. Or Virgil._

Movement drew his attention to the lower right hand corner of his limited field of vision. At once, he recognized the infrared patterns and he tried to speak. _Richie! Richie, are you well? Richie, where are we and what-?_

The tool working inside him- _Why didn't I recognize Richie's competent touch? - _stopped. Then started. Backpack's vision increased to include half the visible spectrum. Then the hand stopped again. Richie sat back, and Backpack could see most of his face now. _He looks… hopeful. But why did he stop?_

The metahuman by the wall moved.

_Richie, who is that? _The two patterns blended together as the unknown metahuman touched Richie. Backpack channeled renewed power from his touch-sensors to his vision and was rewarded by a sharper, more detailed image. The unknown metahuman was Ebon.

_Richie! Richie, look out! Can't you feel him touching you? Richie!_

Ebon moved Richie. Now Richie's face was closer to Backpack's sensory eye. The robot stared at the terrified expression on his Richie's face. A moment later, Ebon moved abruptly and Richie's mouth opened in a silent scream.

_No, it is not silent. _Backpack wanted to jump at Ebon, wanted to kill him. _I cannot hear Richie screaming, but he is. He is being raped._

Unable to look away, unable to offer any comfort, Backpack witnessed the rape from beginning to end. He focused on Richie's face, still hidden behind his helmet-disguise, hoping Richie would see or somehow sense the love that was being directed at him. And now Backpack could use a few of his touch-sensors again. He didn't understand this, but didn't question it. Richie was sweating and shivering; his chest was pressed up against the bed and his face was very close to Backpack. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He drew in ragged breaths that made the air around Backpack tremble with sympathy even as the bed shuddered with the power of Ebon's thrusts.

As Ebon drove forward harder, Richie squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. Tears still escaped from under his eyelids, but now they were slower, as if Richie was getting used to the pain.

_When we were trapped and under Brainiac's control, Brainiac raped Richie twice. The second time was like this: savage, hoping to injure, encouraging of tension and the pain that comes from being tense during sexual intercourse. During that attack, Richie passed out. What is keeping him conscious this time?_

A diagnostic light blinked in Backpack's mind. He almost ignored it- he needed to at least try to be there for Richie- but the damage report reached him anyway. And one item made him divide his attention. _Self-regeneration in progress. Power levels rising, _was what that little bit said.

_Richie built a system I have never needed to sue. And I overlooked it as a bit of programming I didn't need in my "consciousness," like humans not thinking about their heartbeats unless something goes wrong. Thank you, Richie. We will escape yet._

Turning his full attention to Richie, he was just in time to see Ebon push in twice more, then shudder so hard that Backpack was moved a little. His sensor-eye slid down, falling off his injured back, where it had been perched precariously onto the softness of the bed. He was now at eye-level with Richie.

Richie opened his eyes as Ebon pulled out. Richie smiled and winked. Then he closed his eyes and collapsed, perhaps unconscious, perhaps only pretending.

Backpack concentrated on the upper right hand corner of his vision this time as Ebon stood up and backed away. He seemed to be talking. Backpack couldn't see his mouth moving, but the air currents were moving a little. _I am feeling very fine air movements now; good. I wonder what he is saying._

Ebon stalked over to Richie and picked him up. As he laid Richie on the bed beside Backpack, he was still speaking. Backpack, straining, turned his sensor-eye half an inch, enough to watch Ebon put a sheet over Richie.

_This bastard makes no sense to me. He rapes Richie and then he shows kindness and understanding, wanting to protect Richie from shame._

The white light above changed to red and Ebon's head snapped up. A moment later, he was gone, having phased through the wall.

The red light was pulsing now and Backpack detected the quivers in the air that indicated sound. _Is it an alarm? _He found he didn't care at the moment; all he wanted was to repair himself so he could help Richie. _At least Ebon's gone._

Richie didn't stir for a moment, then he sat up, his fingers brushing one of Backpack's arms. The blonde struggled out of bed and resumed his kneeling position on the floor. He picked up a screwdriver. His eyes haunted, sweat streaking down his skin, he set to work once more. His jaw was set and the tool he held was moved confidently.

_Richie, I do not understand how you can move after that, but I can make the repairs myself and- _Backpack stopped. _Why do I bother? He can't hear me._

Richie's lips moved; Backpack tried very hard to read them.

"… strong, BP," Then Richie smiled.

_Does he want me to be strong, or is he telling me that he is strong?_

The diagnostic informed Backpack he was approximately five minutes away from reestablishing his sense of hearing. _I will concentrate on that, _he decided.

oOo

Virgil hated the wetness of the sewers. Water made him nervous when he was in costume, but more than that he hated the sound of water sluicing around his feet. It made him think of an _Are You Afraid of the Dark?_ episode that had something to do with things- tiny, biting things- living just under the surface, just waiting to bite you and turn you into one of them. Virgil shivered, feeling the skin on his chest, where his costume had been torn, prickle.

"Need some heat, Sparky?" Hotstreak muttered in his ear. He didn't light his fist, though; he knew what was coming.

_Kiss my ass. _Virgil concentrated on the form of Batman moving just ahead of him and didn't answer. _There isn't time. We can't be discovered this close to Ebon's hideout._

The voice in his mind was a welcome distraction. _We are close. I can sense ten minds within, _J'onn told him.

_Can you feel Richie?_

_Yes. He seems all right; hope still lives in him._

Virgil felt the Martian withdraw. When he was sure he was alone in his mind, or at least as sure as he could be, Virgil thought, _Yeah, except Rich would be hopeful if we were standing with our backs to a brick wall and a speeding semi was headed our way._

Still, at least Richie was conscious. That was something.

Batman held up his hand and the others stopped. Turning to Virgil and Hotstreak, the Dark Knight whispered, "There's an alarm system. I can bypass it, but there are too many here. You two go to the entrance closest to Ebon's separate room. You have two minutes. Then I set off the alarm and J'onn and I cause a distraction. Questions?"

Virgil shook his head.

Hotstreak did the same, deciding this probably wasn't the best time to mouth off. _If nothing else, I might get caught with these three. Then I couldn't go far enough to keep Ebon from hunting me down._

_Not that I'm scared of Ebon._

"Then get going." Batman turned back to the door.

Hotstreak spun on his heel at once and jogged away. Virgil followed close behind.

Hotstreak stopped one tunnel over and pointed at a small, half-concealed door. "You'll come out right by the buzzer I told you about. The wall will be on your right."

"I'll have to blow it open." Virgil was frowning.

"Ebon's bed isn't right near the wall. If he has F-"

Virgil glared and one of his hands filled with energy like a dipper coming up from a well.

"Gear tied to it, you'll be all right."

Virgil touched the folded clothes- some that wouldn't give Richie's identity away if he somehow had managed to retain his mask- that were concealed under his coat. _Here goes everything._

The alarm went off.

Virgil waited a second, to make sure everyone had a chance to hear it, then pushed the door open. Everything in the hideout was washed with a red, pulsing light. Calm flooded Virgil, shutting out fear, worry and anger.

Static was about to slip inside when Ebon's telltale vortex appeared on the wall to his right. Static crouched down and peeked through the tiny crack between the door and the wall. Ebon appeared and soared into the next room.

Static slipped into the room and slapped the bomb Batman had given him onto the wall. He shielded himself with his powers as the wall blew inwards.

oOo

The pain wasn't bad; he ached, and it was too cold in the small, stone room for his liking, but, all things considered, Richie thought he'd gotten off easy. _I shouldn't have talked Virgil into letting me go it alone. Look what a mess I've made. See? This is what happens every time I express my own needs to my friends._

He gritted his teeth harder and forced himself to think only about the circuits in front of him, to not even think of them as part of his friend. And he had to block out the siren. The conduit he was working on was pretty well charred, but Richie thought he might be able to find a way around it. _This'll mean using that infernal Brainiac schematic, but I don't care. I need to hear Backpack. I need to know he's all right. I can tell he's conscious, but… I just need to hear his voice._

The familiar, loathsome silky-slime feeling was forming in the back of his mind. _BP?_

_Richie! Richie, you are using the other connection. Does it not hurt you?_

_I wouldn't want to keep this up for long, but I can handle it for a few minutes. Do what you can to keep the visions to a minimum._ Then, after a moment, _You're okay, BP?_

_Yes, Richie. Are you?_

_I'll make it. I've talked to Virg. He and some others are coming. They'll be here soon._

_I will ask you how you connected with him later. This connection will not allow me to glean your knowledge without causing you discomfort._

Richie smiled, turning his next words into a gentle tease. _Don't I know it._

An alarm went off in Backpack's mind. _Richie, I detect an explosive._

The wall to Richie's left blew inward. Richie threw himself over Backpack, covering the robot with his own body as he shielded his head with his arms.

The wall had muffled most of the sounds from its other side, but now Richie heard people screaming and threatening and running. He looked up as another sound reached his ears: the staccato, welcome crackling of static electricity.

The dust from the shattered bricks was pushed away and Static zoomed into the room, surrounded by the purple-white energy Richie had heard.

Grinning, Richie jumped up, forgetting he was naked, forgetting where he was and what had happened to him, only seeing Static coming for him.

Static set down in front of Richie and reached out, drawing Richie against him. But there was no time for rejoicing yet, and he knew it. "Put this shirt and pants on and we'll fly out of here." As Richie stepped back, now blushing as he shrugged into the shirt, Static saw Backpack. "Is he all right?"

"He will be." Richie leaned against the wall and slipped into the pants. He noticed they were a bit long and smiled. They were Virgil's pants. Moving to the other side of the room, he grabbed his belt and strapped it on. He didn't bother with his torn costume, but picked up his skates and fixed them to his belt. _BP, can you hold on to me?_

_Yes, Richie, I think so._

"NO!"

A hurricane whipped through the tiny room, lifting Richie off his feet and shoving Static to one side.

"You're mine." Slipstream formed a tornado around Richie, lifting him off the floor. Then he stopped, spotting Static. Grinning, he dumped his consolation prize and reached for what he really wanted.

Two Zap Caps hit him in the back, exploding with a combination of water and electricity. Slipstream screamed and collapsed as the two elements mixed, nearly electrocuting him.

Gear snarled, "And may you have joy of it, ye blarney bastard." An instant later, he had lifted Backpack into his arms, helping the robot to gain purchase on his chest and the front of his shoulders. _You'll be safer in front of me, _he thought, his fury still making his blood boil.

_Richie, you may have-_

_He's not dead. And if he is, I really don't care right now._

Gear looked at Static. "Let's get out of here."

Static stepped onto his waiting disk, his eyes returning to the unconscious Slipstream again and again. But when Gear climbed onto the saucer behind him and wrapped his arms around him, Static made himself forget. Lifting off the floor, he headed into the rest of the hideout.

J'onn and Batman had run through most of the Meta Breed like a farmer's scythe through a field of wheat. Injured and groaning Bang Babies were strewn everywhere. Even as Static and Gear appeared, Batman knocked Ebon out.

Gear saw Hotstreak lingering on the edge of things, almost hidden by a door. He was about to warn Static, but the look on Hotstreak's face- shock, almost concern- stopped him. _He doesn't want us. He just wants to stay out of this._

Confused but accepting what he saw, Gear turned his eyes to Batman and J'onn. Static was hovering a foot or so off the ground, looking at them, too.

"Do you need to go to the infirmary?" Batman asked, meeting Gear's gaze.

Batman's eyes were cool, collected. Gear felt some of his rage dissipating. "No," he said, then took in a breath. "I'm all right. Backpack might need some attention, though."

"Go with J'onn. I'm going to take this filth to the authorities."

Gear nodded.

Static squeezed Gear's hands where they rested just above his waist. "Looks like we're not needed. Time to go, bro."

"Amen to that. I'm sick of this place. Ebon smells." He glanced over his shoulder, taking in the shattered wall as Static rose into the air. "There's another one in there. He was hit pretty hard. He'll probably need a real doctor. Check him first, okay? Just to make sure he's not dead."

"The one who calls himself Slipstream is unconscious only," J'onn said.

Gear nodded again, letting the last vestige of anger go.

oOo

Sean wanted the news, his eyes lighting with hope. Without looking away from the scene where some woman (a mixed breed, by her look) was talking to Rubberband Man, he said, "We could find Richie now. Static and Gear are missing. Dakota's going mad. If we go now, make someone tell us where my son's been hidden- maybe make Hawkins tell us-"

"We can't, Sean."

Sean turned towards his pastor, his eyes flashing. "This is the best time! Without Static and Gear, and while the rest of those superheroes are busy running around Dakota, there isn't be a better time."

"There isn't a worse time." The man sighed. "Sean, any disappearances will be jumped on like a filthy dog being attacked by fleas. Think for a minute. Static and Gear are friends with the Justice League, right? If they weren't, the Justice League wouldn't be here. Don't you think Static and Gear would share all their cases with the Justice League? Ten to one those other superheroes have someone watching your son night and day until Static and Gear are found. You told me Static didn't seem overly worried about your son but the way Gear stepped into the trial, uninvited, argues that _he_, at least, is taking a firm stand. Maybe his parents tried to convince him of the rightness of racial purity and he's fighting against the truth. Whatever it its, we can't afford to look for Richie now. Let everything blow over, wait and see if Static and Gear are found, then we can proceed."

Sean groaned and closed his eyes. "All right, all right. But I won't wait too long. Richie's being brainwashed. The more crap he's exposed to, the longer it will take for us to deprogram him."

"I understand your concerns, Sean. Pray about it. I will pray, also, and God will answer us. He always does."

Later, after the others had left, Sean tried to pray, but he kept thinking of his son's admission of love for his n--- friend. As he pictured the two of them standing side by side, the black boy touching Richie where no decent boy should be touched by another of his sex, Sean realized he couldn't wait for the rest of his group to help him.

_Richie needs me now. All I have to do is find him. I'll deprogram him myself._ Sean went up to his son's room and turned on the computer. _I don't know much about the Internet, but there has to be a way to find my son before it's too late._

oOo

Crouching in the shadows, Hotstreak knew he was taking a risk hanging around. But a part of him wanted to watch Ebon get his ass whupped. _I don't want to see them catch, Talon, but there's nothing I can do about that._

He pushed his guilt away.

As Batman and the green alien mowed through Ebon's crew, Hotstreak grinned. Talon wasn't there. She might be flying somewhere or stealing something; Hotstreak didn't care. She wasn't there.

Slipstream was there; so were Ferret, Shiv, Kangor, Replikon, Replay, Hyde and Aquamaria. Carmen wasn't, and that bothered Hotstreak, but he decided not to worry. _He'll be caught soon; Carmen's an idiot._

_And why do I care if he's caught, anyway? Now that Ebon and most of the others will be in jail, Carmen's hardly a threat to Gear. Even Gear can fight Carmen without problems. Hell, even Foley with no gadgets could probably escape Carmen._

Slipstream flew by Hotstreak, and the red head almost went after him, thinking, _He might be able to stop Static, or at least grab Gear again. _But no sooner had Hotstreak decided that he would have to do something then he heard Gear shout, "And may you have joy of it, ye blarney bastard." Slipstream didn't answer; he must have been hit by something.

_Damn, I've never heard Foley sound like that. He's like a rabid dog; he reminds me of… me when I'm pissed. Not just casually angry, but really pissed._

Hotstreak snorted. _Static probably thinks I spend most of my life mad at the world. He doesn't know I'm just venting or playing around. How could he know I've only really lost it three or four times in my whole life?_

Each of those times stood out clearly in Hotstreak's mind. He decided to leave the fight and go somewhere to think. _And maybe I can find Talon and tell her to lay low until all this blows over. Besides, I can't be caught here. Batman might just decide to haul my ass in on the principle of the thing._

He knew Batman wouldn't turn him in. At least not today.

He glanced up to make sure no one was watching him, and spotted Gear riding behind Static, his arms around his boyfriend's waist. Gear turned his head, and Hotstreak stared in open-mouthed shock at the fury in his eyes. Then Gear blinked and the anger was gone, replaced by exhaustion and a need that made Hotstreak's chest feel tight.

Gear looked away and the red headed teen backed out of the room quickly, closing the door. He began to jog down the corridor. _Shit. What was that all about?_

Hotstreak put on a burst of speed, concentrating only on his breathing and the drumming rhythm of his feet on the stone floor. As he sprinted away from what he'd just seen, his mind began to settle down, channeling energy into his arms and legs, not allowing him to think. He took the foul sewer air in like food, not caring that it stank, only wanting it to fuel him, to strengthen him.

To carry him away from Gear's eyes.

Spotting a flight of stairs, Hotstreak took them two at a time, climbing from the sewer level up through two upper levels of the subway before he reached the sun. He had only met a few people on the stairs because most people took the escalators down. Many of the early-morning commuters were staring at him, but Hotstreak didn't care. None of them tried to stop him or yelled at him. All he wanted was to be left alone to run. And that's what the citizens did.

_Do they recognize me as Hotstreak? Do they know I could roast them alive, especially because Static and Gear are "missing?" _He laughed breathlessly and raced out into the sunlight, turning left and never slowing. At the first street corner, he ran with the light, traffic speeding by on his left. At the next, he missed the light but sprinted across anyway, not listening as people honked and swore at him.

He covered a dozen blocks in this way before he deemed it safe to stop. Breathing like a bellows, his mouth open and his chest heaving, Hotstreak ducked into a small park and hid himself among some trees. Here he threw himself on the ground, put his arms over his face, and lay perfectly still, listening to his slowing breath and his pounding heart.

_Damn it, why did he have to look at me? I didn't even get to see what Static looked like because of fucking Foley and his fucking eyes. I wanted to see if he was completely pissed and ready to electrocute Ebon. Now I'll never know what was going through his mind._

_Fucking Foley._

Hotstreak groaned and sat up, his eyes open but unseeing. _And here I thought he would be a sobbed puddle of pain and self-loathing. He looked more like a vengeful god. Not as much of a god as Static, _he amended at once, _but maybe a demi-god, a half-god who can still be dangerous and who doesn't mind showing the world how pissed he is._

Hotstreak rubbed at his face, feeling the stubble on his cheeks. He hated stubble. _I'll have to steal a razor. No; the Justice League's watching over Dakota. Maybe if I can find Talon she'll have something I can use. Even a knife will do. _He sighed and stood up. _But it's morning; everyone will see me. Why'd I come up top anyway? I could have stayed underground and gotten around. But no, I had to run away. And worse, I had to run away without knowing where I was running to._

That had happened once before, when he was nine. _I'd been out of the hospital for two months, finally able to move around again without feeling like I was going to pass out. And what was the first thing I did? I got on that trail by the elementary school and started running, thinking I would just run the trail. But it wasn't long enough; I'd been cooped up for too long and really needed to stretch my legs. So at the end of the trail I went out on the highway, staying on the left shoulder, and ran for almost a mile. By the time I stopped, I was so tired I thought I would just lay down right there and sleep. _

_I couldn't, though, so I started back._ Hotstreak shook his head, pounding his fist into the grass. _I was a coward. The traffic was coming fast, so I didn't want to have to cross the road so I would be walking against it. So I started back, walking on the right shoulder now with the traffic coming up behind me._

He shivered. _The car clipped me. If it had done any more than that, I wouldn't be here. I was thrown twenty feet into the trees on my right and just lay there. I don't really remember how long I was there, but this dog… This black dog with a deep bark and soft ears found me and barked and whined until someone came and rescued me._

_I spent six more days in the hospital. I thought I was going to go mad. I didn't, though, mostly because of Aunt Sue._ He smiled as he always did when he thought o his dear, health-food conscious aunt. She was his mother's sister and as unlike his mother as it was possible to be and still be human.

"Mom got so sick of me so easily," he muttered. "I reminded her of her brothers and her father and her husband. I was moody and crazy-wild and a fighter." He closed his eyes. "She packed me off to Aunt Sue's as often as she could, like I was a piece of clothing she didn't want but had to wear every once in a while. The rest of the time, that ugly sweater or whatever I was to her had to stay out of her sight."

A good deal of his frustration evaporated as he thought of his aunt. _I called her Aunt Susie until I was fourteen. Then I called her Aunt Sue until I was sent to juvie. Then I wasn't allowed to stay with her anymore. So I ran away. And the Big Bang happened._

_We used to bake cookies together. When I was recovering from that first, two-year hospital stay, we baked bread and made cookies for her friends- I got to eat some, but Aunt Sue would only eat half a one every week and consider it her treat. We read stories and she made me learn my times tables. Every time I started to get restless, she would do the same thing. First, we'd walk around the lake- a mile and a half- twice. Then, back home, she'd ask me to help her with some chores like painting the fence, mowing the lawn with that ancient push-mower of hers or clean the gutters. That probably seems like slave labor, but I loved it because she didn't just assign the chores; she did them with me. She did everything with me. When I had to memorize the times tables, she had me quiz her on wild plants and their medicinal uses. By the time I'd memorized up to the twelve times table, she'd memorized fifty plants and what they were good for._

He felt the familiar sting of tears in his eyes even though he hadn't cried in over six years. _But I wouldn't let myself think about this, either. God, I was such a bad kid. I don't know why she ever put up with me. When I was fifteen, I was arrested for helping some of my friends- my gang- steal a bunch of electronic junk. They wanted to sell the stuff so they could get the drugs they wanted. I didn't want the drugs; I just wanted the friends. Aunt Sue knew her friendship and love wasn't enough, but she couldn't find any teens for me to hang out with. So I went to Dakota Union High and found my own "friends." Executioners is what they were; they killed or destroyed with poison and lies and laughter and punches in the arm._

He wiped the tears away and groaned again, fisting his hand in the grass, pulling some of it up. _And when I came back from juvie, the social worker discovered that I hadn't been living with my mom, so I was sent back to my "real" house. _He snorted. _My real home was with Aunt Sue, but nobody would believe me. And she didn't have the money to get me back in the courts. She tried to talk my mom into letting me stay with her anyway, hoping my mom wouldn't care that I wasn't there, but Mom had fallen on hard times and asked me to stay to help out with the kids. Her boyfriend's kids and my brothers and sisters that I'd never met._

_I hated it there. Everything smelled of cigarettes (Aunt Sue didn't smoke, of course) and piss and cat shit. I was there for two weeks before I left. The night I ran away, I went to the docks to back up my crew. And the rest, as some dead white moron said, is history. _He laughed. _Not that I'm pitying myself; I haven't done too badly with my powers. But sometimes I just wish I could go back and just see Aunt Sue, even if she couldn't see me. But I'll never go back. If anyone wants to follow me, they'd see her. I want her to stay as far away from all the shit I'm in as possible._

_No one would probably follow me. _

_But I won't take that chance. I owe it to her to be careful._

Hotstreak stood, making sure that all his tears were gone. _I've got to find Talon before the Justice League catches her. And if I'm caught, too bad. _He grinned. _Besides, I wouldn't mind playing hide and seek with the Justice League. If I can manage to avoid them all day while continuing to wander through the city, I'll have something to brag to Talon about when I find her._

oOo

Superman strode into the infirmary, a chart in his hands. He smiled at Richie, who was sitting on the edge of an examination table, idly kicking his feet. The Man of Steel stopped beside the table, resting a hand on Richie's shoulder. "The blood tests came back negative. You're clean, Richie."

The blonde released a breath. "I guess Ebon hasn't made it with many people then, or he just hasn't slept with anyone with a sexually-transmitted disease." He fiddled with the extra pair of glasses Flash taken from his home in the suburbs of Dakota. They weren't his favorite, having frames that were far too thick, but they were far better than nothing at all. His other pair, the one he wore most of the time, was back in Ebon's hideout, most likely cracked when Ebon had thrown his pants.

_Not to seem ungrateful, but… _"Can I go now?"

"In a minute. Batman will be bringing Backpack here as soon as he's repaired. I want to ask you a few questions first."

Richie chewed his lip. Fearing the worst and guessing that Superman would ask him to talk about being raped, he said, "I don't promise to answer all of them." His answer was rude and presumptuous, but Richie was past being polite. _When I talked to Batman during that first nightmare, I was willing to talk. But I'm different now._

"Fair enough. I'm not your interrogator, Richie." Superman folded his arms. "First, does Ebon know your secret identity?"

"He didn't get a chance to remove my helmet, but Slipstream knows who I am and so does Hotstreak. Not that Hotstreak has told anyone. He's known for weeks." He sighed. "I need to tell Virgil about that, even though he's probably figured it out by now. I didn't mean to keep it from him; there was just so much else going on." He sighed again. "I'm sorry; I'm rambling. Next question?"

"Do you want to live in the Watchtower?"

Casual as you please, no muss, no fuss, no fanfare. Richie's eyes were so wide hw was sure he looked like one of the huge-eyed fish that lived in the darker parts of the ocean. He blinked, trying to get them back to normal size, and cleared his throat. "Excuse me?" _Oh, real polite, Richie. Try that again, would you? _"Uh, I don't mean to sound stupid, but what did you say?"

"I asked if you want to live here in the Watchtower with the Justice League. Not all of us live up here all the time, but there would always be somebody here. We can make you comfortable and supply you with a means to finish your high school education."

"I… Would I be a member of the Justice League?"

"More like a junior member. You and Static are that already, though. You would just live here instead of on Earth."

Richie's head was spinning. He closed his eyes for a moment, centered himself, then looked at Superman again. "But why would you let me live here? I had to beg to be allowed up here the first time!"

"Things have changed. For one, we know we can trust you now. For another, we can trust your robot." He squeezed Richie's shoulder. "You have been under tremendous strain, more than most teenagers could survive. We've decided that you should have a place you can call your own without having to worry about watching your back. If two of your enemies know who you are, it will be less than safe for you in Dakota, or even outside it."

"Hotstreak isn't exactly our enemy." Richie blinked, surprised at his own words. "At least, he didn't tell anyone I was Gear and I don't think he would blab about Virg being Static, either. He doesn't owe Ebon anything and all he wants to do is annoy Static, I think."

"He wants to fight Static, one on one," Superman answered. "He confessed as much, both to Virgil and to Batman and J'onn. Not to kill him, but just to show who's stronger." He raised an eyebrow at Richie. "Does that make sense to you? Do you think he was telling the truth?"

"Yeah, I do," Richie said at once. "Hotstreak's a jerk sometimes, but he doesn't have any drams of taking over the world. He doesn't even want to lead the Meta Breed. He'll leave that to Ebon. Hotstreak might steal a car so he can go for a joy ride, but nothing more."

Superman was nodding, his expression thoughtful. "So he's more of an annoyance than an enemy. Do you think he would ever give your secret identity to anyone?"

"Not unless he thought he could get a lot out of it. And I mean a _lot_, not just a favor from Ebon or a little money. Hotstreak can play his advantages." Richie smiled thinly. "He'd make a good poker player if he could keep his temper."

"But he still might play his hand if he thought he would gain something big?" Superman asked.

Richie nodded. Suddenly, he felt tired. "Yeah. He would." Without asking if Superman was done (knowing full well that he wasn't) Richie repositioned himself on the examining table, pillowing his head on his arm. "I'm grateful for your offer, but I can't think anymore right now. Is it okay if I sleep?"

Superman frowned. "Richie, we're worried about you. That's the other reason we want you to stay up here. J'onn heard you telling Backpack that you didn't care if Slipstream was dead or not. Why did you throw two Zap Caps at the same time, anyway? Especially two that would cause such a disastrous reaction when combined?"

"J'onn was in my head?" He groaned and sat up again. "Look, I just grabbed what came to my hand first because Slipstream was going to hurt V. I had to protect Virgil. I couldn't let him get raped. Virg is innocent and I want him to stay that way. So if you're asking if I was trying to kill Slipstream, the answer is no. And if you're worried that I told Backpack I didn't care, keep in mind that I was scared. I/d just been raped by Ebon and I didn't want anyone to hurt my lover like that. I asked Batman to check on Slipstream didn't I? Haven't you ever, even for the briefest moment, wished that one of your enemies was dead? Didn't you ever wish that on Brainiac, at least? I mean, he destroyed your entire planet! Haven't you ever been angry enough to wish him dead?"

"Richie… Richie, Brainiac is dead."

"Oh, sure, just like the three other times you thought that."

Superman stared at him. "How do you know how many times I've fought him?"

"You should never let a supergenius near your computers." Richie slid off the table and folded his arms, glaring up at Superman. "Don't look so shocked. I didn't mean to hack in here- I was trying to contact the League so I could find Batman, but I accidentally opened a restricted file about you. I read two lines of it and then got rid of it, because I don't want to know how much you've suffered because of Brainiac. That isn't something I should know. I'm not your friend; I'm an ally who doesn't know anything about your personal pain. Curiosity conquered me for fifteen seconds, that's all."

He sighed and dropped his arms. Looking at the floor, he whispered, "I'm sorry I yelled. It's just… Well, I won't believe Brainiac is dead until I see his body for myself. And maybe not even then, because he's so powerful and regenerative."

Shaking his head, Richie continued, "And this isn't even what you wanted to know. You want to know if I'll live up here. Right?"

"Richie, we don't have to talk about this. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's not your fault." Richie waved his hand. "And I'm sorry I'm such a jerk." He closed his eyes again, and this time kept them closed. "I can't stay here. I'd love to, but I can't. I can't leave Virg on Earth and I don't want to leave my family: the Hawkins, Bernadette and John. I'm never felt as good as I do when I'm with V and his family or with my foster parents. I'm where everyone trusts me and loves me and doesn't hurt me. I can't leave." He met Superman's troubled gaze. "Even if it's safer, I can't. Please understand. I'm grateful for your offer, and there's a part of me that would love o live here, but I'm not ready to be away from everyone I know and love." He added after a moment of silence, "If you tell me I have to live up here for my own good, I won't run away. I'll do as you ask. But only after I can plead my case in front of the rest of the League. I won't come quietly, in other words."

"Richie, we wouldn't force you to stay here. That isn't our way." Superman put both hands on Richie's shoulders. "We want what is best for you, Richie." He smiled a little. "And I hope we'll be friends one day instead of just allies."

Richie blushed. "I'm sorry about that. I tend to run at the mouth."

"If you didn't you wouldn't be Richie." Superman dropped his hands but continued to smile. "Just remember that the offer to live up here is always open."

"I will."

The door to the infirmary opened and a familiar clanking sound drew Richie's attention. He turned, his face lighting up. "BP!" He sprinted across the room, tripped on the cuffs of the too-long pants he wore and started to fall.

Batman caught him, thinking, _This is becoming a habit._

Blushing again, Richie mumbled his thanks as he dropped to one knee before the robot. "Are you okay, buddy?"

"I am quite well, Richie." Everyone could hear the laughter in Backpack's voice. "I can see you are well, though still faking your clumsiness."

Richie hugged Backpack to him, closing his eyes against the threat of tears. "I can't help it; it's fun to make you laugh."

"You are quite amusing without having to perform, Richie."

"Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult."

Batman walked over to Superman as the banter continued. "What did he say?" he whispered, his lips barely moving.

"He doesn't want to live up here. He said he can't leave Virgil or the rest of his family." Superman shook his head. "He's far from healed, Bruce, but he's on his way. He might even heal completely if he's allowed to be around people that love him."

"But?"

"But he's not out of danger. Slipstream knows who he is and so does Hotstreak."

"Hotstreak knows who Virgil is as well."

Superman watched Richie stand up, Backpack still in his arms. "Then they're both in danger. We'll have to watch out for them."

"I already am."

oOo

"So we'll be home tomorrow morning and I'll call my Pops from there," Virgil explained.

Bernadette sighed. "I'm just glad you're all right. Did this Ebon person hurt Richie?"

_Well, except for raping him…_ "No. Richie's fine. Batman and the rest of the League are giving us a place to sleep tonight and tomorrow we'll come home."

"Why can't you come tonight?"

_She really wants to see Rich, _which was a sentiment Virgil could completely understand and respect."It's like a debriefing. We're going to report what happened to the League and then discuss it." The lie was easy and Virgil only felt slightly guilty. _I mean, I'm protecting her from knowing that Richie was violated._

"Can we talk to Richie?" asked John.

_They must be on two different phones. _"Um, I'm not sure if he's done working on Backpack yet." _Or getting his blood tested for STDs. _Virgil's skin crawled. "I could have him call you when he's done, if it's not too late and he's not too tired."

The door to the small, well-furnished bedroom opened and Virgil turned, his eyes widening when he saw the sunny, relaxed expression on Richie's face.

"Uh, hold on. He just walked in." Virgil covered the mouthpiece. "Do you want to talk to your foster parents?"

Richie's eyes sparkled. "Sure."

Surprised, thinking that Richie would probably just want to be left a lone (_well, alone with me_) Virgil handed over the receiver. Then he retreated to the bed and sat down, watching Richie settle into a chair. Backpack, who had been walking at Richie's heel, lay down at Richie's feet like a devoted dog.

_I'm not mad at Richie. Or Bernadette and John. Or Backpack. I just… _He sighed. _I just want something to be mad at. And since Ebon's in jail, I need something to channel my anger into._

"We were lucky Batman and J'onn showed up when they did," Richie was saying. "But everything's okay now… No, I'm okay. Tired and…" He listened, then said softly, "Ebon raped me."

Virgil's jaw dropped.

"I didn't get anything from him," Richie continued. "But it wasn't the first time. I've been through this before and… Yeah, I know. That's why I told you. I don't want to lie to you. " A short silence, then, "Virg knows. We've just kept to ourselves for so long that it's habit. Don't be mad at him… It's okay… We'll talk when I get home. Yeah. Mr. H and Sharon will probably drop by, too, once the J League gives them the all clear."

Virgil glanced at Backpack as Richie continued to talk, noticing that the robot looked like new. It was almost impossible to believe that he'd looked like scrap metal twelve hours ago.

Backpack, seeming to sense Virgil looking at him, lifted his sensor eye. Then he stood and moved towards Virgil. The teen hesitated, then stood and led Backpack into the next room. The door closed behind them. He sat on the couch, and Backpack hopped up beside him.

"He wants to see you so badly but feels as though explaining things is his duty," Backpack said without preamble. He took in Virgil's startled expression and added, "He loves them and feels safe with them. If he is going to have to live with them, then I'm happy for him. And of course I will be watching them at all times to make sure they don't hurt him."

Virgil put his chin in his hand. "I guess I'm like you; I don't trust somebody else to love and take care of Richie the way I think he needs to be. I want to think his foster parents are wonderful and amazing, but the world isn't like that. I'm so afraid they'll turn on Richie."

"If they do, we will be ready to take care of Richie."

"I know." Virgil sat up straight. "I wanted to save you, you know. I saw you in the alley and tried to get to you."

"I am glad Ebon took me. I was able to help Richie." Backpack seemed to be staring at the floor. "I saw him rape Richie. He-"

"Did Richie fight him?"

"No. He understood that if he fought Ebon would hurt him even more. I could not protect him."

_Oh. _Virgil reached out, feeling silly but pushing past it. He put his hand on Backpack's arm. "I'm sorry. I know what it's like to know that he's hurting and know that I can't help him."

"I could not even read his thoughts!" Backpack was shuddering under Virgil's hand. "I wanted to at least help him through it, tell him it would be over soon. But I couldn't talk to him certainly couldn't help him." He looked up at Virgil. "I love him. And if it wasn't completely against Richie's wishes, I would find Ebon and kill him."

Virgil felt every trace of silliness and uncertainty disappear. "Me, too, Backpack. Tell you what: if Richie ever changes his mind and wants us to exact revenge for him, you can have Ebon's right side and I'll take his left."

"One eye each?" Backpack asked and Virgil could have sworn the robot was smiling.

"Yeah, and one ball."

The door to the bedroom opened and Richie came out, looking tired but still as if everything in the world had been made right. He spotted Virgil and Backpack sitting side by side on the couch, Virgil still with his hand on Backpack's arm, and he grinned until it seemed his face would split. He started towards them, though more slowly, not wanting to trip again.

Virgil and Backpack met him halfway and Richie buried his face in Virgil's chest while Backpack crawled up Richie's legs and settled himself on the blonde's back.

"I love you guys," Richie said, his voice muffled.

"We love you, too, Rich," Virgil answered.

"You are everything to us."

Richie reached up and touched Backpack's arm. "Can we go to sleep now?" He closed his eyes and inhaled Virgil's scent, moaning when Virgil sucked on his ear.

"Anything you say, Rich."

Two minuets later, stripped to their boxers (Richie found a pair folded in a drawer, ready for him) Virgil spooned himself behind Richie, embracing him from behind. Richie held one of Virgil's hands in his own and wrapped his other arm around Backpack, who had snuggled up to his chest.

_I should be uncomfortable, _Richie thought, yawning. _BP isn't the softest person in the world and maybe I should be tense with someone lying behind me._ He smiled, his lips barely curving up at the corners. _But they're just what I need. _Sleep came to take him and Richie went willingly, confident and comforted in the arms of his protectors.

**A/N#3:** Does anybody else miss Virgil's diary entries? I know I do. As soon as he writes one down, I'll copy it over to the story. Virgil just hasn't had much time for writing lately. Must make it hard on poor Fiyero to gather all this information.

**leev:** Of course, everybody can share Richie. He needs all the support he can get. And I was hoping he'd get out, too, but Ebon isn't as patient as he was pretending to be.

On a totally unrelated note, I was thinking about your story "A Camping We Will Go" and wanted to point something out. In the season two episode "Brother-Sister Act", Virgil is able to fly around as Static by putting up his hood. His coat must be rain-proof. He was wearing his goggles, too. Just a thought so he can go out in the rain- and please please update soon! I don't love Keith, but I want to see if he lives and I'm nearly frantic with worry about Richie.

**Tristripe:** I'm glad Hotstreak finally talked and explained a little about his past. About Richie's talk with God: I've only heard God's voice once: he said "No" once to me, though I can't remember what the question was. As for the satic feeling, I've never felt God's presence like that, but I figured He would want to connect to Richie in a way that Richie was comfortable with.

**Rheanen:** Thanks for reviewing. I'm glad we got all he confusion worked out.

**anacsadder:** Oh, Ebon will get much eviler (I think) just not in this book. But Book Three is still ahead, so there's still hope (or something to be worried about, in Richie's case)…

**MsManga:** Thank you for the praise. I'm glad you're continuing to enjoy this. And I guess it _is _dark, but I'm still hoping for a happy ending.

**Moonjava:** This chapter was a little less emotionally draining, but that's mostly due to Hotstreak's unexpected soliloquy. I hope he sends me more of those!


	10. BK3 Chapter1: Happy Birthday, Richie

**A.N:** The reason this one is longer is because the chapter proper still needed to be twenty pages in keeping with my promise to make all the chapters close to the same length. But all these little things kept clamoring to be written first.

By the way, now that Backpack has a log and Virgil has a diary, when will Richie get his own journal or whatever? Or maybe he did all the writing he wanted to in "With Brainiac."

**Warning #1:** Lots of racist stuff here. We all know Sean Foley…

**Warning #2:** dum dum dum dum: It's Christianity!

Enjoy!

Book III

Backpack's Personal Log (1)

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (3)

A Short Conversation

Backpack's Personal Log (2)

Backpack's Personal Log (3)

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (4)

Chapter One: Happy Birthday, Richie

Book III

Backpack's Personal Log

Personal Log:

Date: 6-29-03

Subject: Introduction

I am borrowing the idea of a personal log from the television shows Richie likes to watch. There is a set of four separate shows, all inspired by one man, that Richie enjoys. The title of the shows as a whole is _Star Trek_. I believe a personal log will suit me better than a "journal" or "diary." I am a machine and think in stricter terms. Besides, a journal or diary implies writing things down and keeping them secret. These Personal Logs will be private, though their existence is not a secret. Richie suggested them.

"You're alive, BP," he said to me this morning while the smells of coffee and cinnamon toast drifted up from downstairs where John was making breakfast. "Part of being alive is having the ability to keep things to yourself. Secrets, but not necessarily bad ones."

I was sitting on his desk, watching him as he tied his sneakers. "But, Richie, most secrets are dangerous or they would not be kept secret."

"Not true. If I was planning a surprise birthday party for V, I would want to keep it secret. And I might keep a secret if I was trying to figure something out. Sometimes it's good to keep your own counsel until you decide how you feel about something and how you will react to it."

I considered that. "Is that analogous to keeping information from Virgil so that he would evaluate me without biases?"

"Exactly." Richie smiled. "You don't have to keep secrets, but I want you to know that the option is open to you. Just as I need alone time, you may need a place where you can store personal information."

"I cannot imagine wanting to hide something from you."

Richie lifted me on to his lap and hugged me. "I love you." Again, he smiled. "And it doesn't have to be kept secret forever. If you want to think about something, figure it out, then tell me, that's good, too."

I have no intention of hiding anything from Richie, but I have started this personal log just to be able to say I have taken his suggestion. And since he was the instigator of the conversation in the first place, none of this is secret.

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins/Static Shock

Dear Diary,June 30, 2003

I'm not even going to get into this. I'm just going to paste the letter of explanation in here. It's just not worth commenting on. I mean, after all… It's in the past, right? And Richie apologized, right? So there's no need for comment. I just want to paste it in here before I call Richie to tell him everything's okay.

Dear Virg,

You're not going to like this, but you've already figured it out, so it's time for me to confess. Hotstreak knew that I was Gear a long time ago. Well, three weeks ago, anyway.

The night the KKK attacked the hospital, Backpack sensed someone else approaching from below: two metahumans. He didn't know who they were, but I knew I didn't want to meet hem in a hospital gown. Backpack helped me get dressed, Gear helped me walk and I got a bucket of water ready in case it was Hotstreak who showed up.

You're probably going to ask, "Why didn't you come find me, Rich?"

And the only answer I can give is that I was more frightened of meeting my father or any of the other KKK members than I was facing a Bang Baby. I'm still more scared of my father than I am of anyone else, and that includes Ebon, though that probably doesn't make much sense. Actually, that includes Brainiac, too, so I think I won't have any more nightmares about him.

Hotstreak showed up, I couldn't pick up the bucket of water by myself, so Backpack helped me. I know it was dangerous to have BP where anyone could see him, but what else was I going to do? When Hotstreak started to get his wind back, I threw the empty bucket at him, hitting him in the face. Then I opened the door, thinking that maybe I would take my chances of finding you before the K found me.

But two of them were standing right there. V, I've only been that scared once in my life: when Brainiac followed Backpack's connection into my mind.

I tried to shut the door, but they pushed it open. Backpack put himself between us. They didn't even look at him. When they talked about taking me somewhere for my own good, I panicked and backed up even more- right into Hotstreak's arms.

He said something then that was so strange I felt like I was on _The Twilight Zone._ He said, "Hold up, little buddy. It's just me."

The K members took me for Hotstreak's whore. They spat at me.

Hotstreak drew me against him and held a flame with one hand. Only then did I realize that he'd taken off his shirt, which had probably taken the brunt of the water attack. He told the K men that he'd burned hundreds of people before and didn't mind burning two more to make his street credit even better. Now, you and I know he's never actually killed anyone, but these guys didn't know it. They backed away from him, but didn't leave the room. I think their orders were probably somewhere along the line of "Take him at all costs."

Hotstreak said, "Let's play fire in the hole." That was enough for my dad's hired kidnappers; they bolted.

When they were gone, Hotstreak extinguished the flame. Then he made me promise I wouldn't run away. He said he wanted to talk to me. I told him I had nowhere to run to because the men were still out there.

He demanded the answer to one question in return for saving me. Hotstreak wanted to know if I was really dating a black teenager because that was what the KKK members said. He asked if it was you, saying that was the only question he had and he would consider my debt paid. So I told him yes.

Then he asked if I was Gear, then said he guessed I probably was. He also guessed that you were Static, but he didn't ask. He didn't need to.

I said, "Now you're going to want something from me in exchange for not telling my secret."

Hotstreak moved closer to me until he was so close I could smell his sweat. He said that if I didn't tell that he saved me he wouldn't tell what he knew. I promised. I mean, what choice did I have? Besides, why would I want to give Ebon any reason to doubt Hotstreak? I don't care what those two think of each other.

Then Hotstreak told me something that I should have taken more seriously. Just like I should have taken your dreams and feelings seriously. I know I've apologized for that, but I'm apologizing again.

Hotstreak said Ebon liked "delicate blondes" and that he'd been watching Gear, and that he dreamed about the two times he'd touched me, Richie.

Gear took over my mouth for a minute and told Hotstreak that I would tell Virgil, but that was the only person I'd tell. And Gear also said that if Hotstreak told Ebon, I'd be ready to fight.

Gear was a pain in the ass who sometimes didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. I'm so glad we're one again. I would never want to go down that road again, even under the most desperate of circumstances.

I know I should have told you all of this before. I'm sorry I forgot about it. It would pop into my head from time to time, but either it wasn't a good time or I just didn't want to talk about it then, probably ruin whatever relaxed, loving moment we were having right then.

Please forgive me, Virg.

Love,

Richie

Okay, I just reread the letter. I guess I'll make two comments. First, I'm a jerk. How could I think Richie would ever willingly give away our secret and just as willingly keep what he did from me without a good reason? And comment two: I nee to call him.

A Short Conversation

"Corbett's residence, Bernadette speaking."

"Hi. This is Virgil." _Well, even if Pops couldn't win custody of Richie in court at least Richie gets to stay with Bernadette and John until he's eighteen. He's happy and safe, and it's only a ten minute flight from his house to the gas station._

Virgil could hear the smile in her voice. "I'll get Richie. Hang on a second."

A moment later, Richie said, "Hey, V." He sounded nervous.

_I must really be a bastard for him to be worried about my answer to his letter._ Virgil sneered at himself. _I almost _was_ a bastard. Good thing I read the letter again. _"I love you, Richie."

He didn't answer right away. When he spoke, much of the nervousness was gone. "You're not angry with me?"

"No. I thought I was, but then I… Well, let's just say I actually paid attention to what you wrote the second time I read it."

Richie's smile was also evident in his voice. "I love you, too, V."

They talked for another hour, as they did every night, Richie filling Virgil in on his progress with the mental link to Backpack.

"I'll see you on patrol at ten?" Richie asked as the conversation wound down.

"If you don't, I'll send Static to find you." Virgil snorted. "And you _know_ how ticked off he can be."

"Yeah… Love you, V."

"Love you, too, Rich. See you in an hour."

Backpack's Personal Log

Personal Log

Date: 7-5-03

Subject: Richie's Nightmares

He does not have what he calls a screaming-dream every night. For that I am grateful. I do not know if Richie could sleep if he knew he would have one each night.

**Screaming-dream definition (def):** a nightmare that either makes Richie scream in his sleep or wakes him up with a scream "caught in his throat" (Richie's words).

Last night's nightmare was a screaming-dream, however, and it was bad enough to bring Bernadette and John from their bedroom. Usually, I can ease Richie out of his terror before his foster parents. But at 1:34 this morning I could not wake Richie, even though I tried to enter his dream and ease him through it. I could barely understand his dream. Most of Richie's dreams are like movies: they have clearly-defined beginning, middle and end, with a plot. In most of his exciting dreams, Richie discovers a problem in Dakota, he and Static go to solve it, beat the Bang Babies and come home.

**Exciting dream def:** a non-threatening dream that will make Richie's heart beat a little fast, but which he will enjoy and usually write down as the possible plot for a comic book.

Even many of his nightmares are movie-like; they just don't have happy endings. But his dream this morning was a series of images. Perhaps the reason I could not wake him up is because I could not put myself into the dream. The situation and setting changed at least three times each minute.

Or perhaps it was not the speed of the images, but their savagery that kept me out.

I stored his nightmare for future analysis, but I do not wish to do that now. All that is important to me is that I could not wake Richie. Bernadette had to do it, and it took her nearly fifteen minutes. I stayed at Richie's side and monitored his pulse, fearing that he might have a heart attack.

What confuses me is this: when Richie woke up, he could not remember what he had dreamed. I considered sharing the images with him, but decided he didn't need to remember them.

I am worried about Richie, if such a thing is not obvious in the above narrative. I must find a way to help him. Perhaps I will talk to Batman. He helped Richie and me through our earlier problems.

Backpack's Personal Log

Personal Log

Date: 7-13-03

Subject: Richie's anger as it relates to his series-nightmare

I analyzed the images from Richie's nightmare on the morning of July fifth. It has taken me a while because Richie and I have been so busy building the new, long-distance connection. It is not perfect yet, but it is closer to being completed. Also, Richie is attempting to build a technological version of the mental link J'onn created between Richie and Virgil. As yet, Richie hasn't told Virgil about his attempts. He doesn't' want to give his boyfriend false hope that they might be able to hear each other wherever they are.

I have developed a hypothesis regarding my inability to enter Richie's nightmare on July fifth. It is only a working hypothesis, and perhaps I will never have a chance to test it.

Hypothesis: I could not enter Richie's nightmare because Richie didn't want me there.

Facts in agreement with this hypothesis:

1. Richie was dreaming about killing Bang Babies, and even though he was screaming in revulsion and fear a part of him was enjoying killing them.

a. Support for this fact: Richie wanted to kill Slipstream, if only for a moment, when Slipstream advanced on Virgil, meaning to rape him.

2. I was able to hear Richie's thoughts during the dream. One of them was this: _If I kill him, he'll never threaten anyone again. _That Richie could even think such a thing, even in passing, argues that he wanted to keep killing.

I understand that killing in a dream isn't like killing in real life. Still, I fear for Richie, for his innocence, his purity and his sanity.

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins/Static Shock

Dear Diary,July 15, 2003

After everything we've been through, I can't believe Richie and I almost blew it all by being jealous (Richie) and pig-headed (me). We fought Brainiac, we fell in love, we stayed together through Mr. Foley's attempts to pull us apart. _And_ we worked through all the pain Ebon caused. (Though Richie still has the occasional nightmare.) So how could one annoying T.V. producer come so close to tearing us apart? Simple: we're still teenagers and aren't the most mature at times.

Bernie Rast. Just the man's name makes me want to strangle something. He created a show called Heroes and announced it was starring Static Shock- without asking me if I wanted to do it. I would have never gone to Rast if Richie hadn't noticed the billboard with my picture on it. Rast convinced me to do the show, and when I said my partner would be there, Rast's answer was typical of him: "Just try not to get between the hero and the cameras," he told Gear.

I should have put a stop to the whole thing right then and there, but I'd been bitten by the Hollywood bug and told myself the man just didn't know how Gear and I worked, that he would warm up to Gear. I mean, who couldn't like Richie, assuming they weren't out-and-out crooks? He just had a way about him that put people at ease.

Our first battle with Starburst (who showed up every time we were filming, think of that!) started with Gear and I working together and ended with me acting on my own and being thrown into a bunch of garbage. That was enough for Richie. He got mad at the whole idea of a T.V. show because he said it broke us up. Then I said the worst thing I think I've ever said to him: "I was a solo act long before you came along." Richie left.

I didn't try to stop him.

The next day, I fought Starburst on my own. Richie and I hadn't talked yet, which put me on edge. I lost again, after trying to use high-tension wires (like phone lines) to boost my strength. I ended up tangled in them.

The day after my second defeat (Richie and I still hadn't talked, and I'd stopped talking to my family) I was up in my room, staring at my picture in the newspaper. The headline read "Static Clings!" and "City in Shock!" I was tied up in that bunch of high-tension wires courtesy of Starburst. I was moping and grouching and basically acting like an ass. I was embarrassed, angry at Bernie Rast, shocked that I couldn't conquer one Bang Baby and hurt that Richie had walked off the set, refusing to work with me.

Then he knocked on my door.

/Flashback/

I'm staring at the ridiculous picture, thinking what an idiot I was to try to face Starburst alone. Richie can always put a new spin on a situation. But he walked out on me because Bernie Rast couldn't get his name right, disregarded him and told him to stay out of the way of the cameras. Okay, so maybe I was showing off for the cameras a bit… or a lot. But that didn't give Richie the right to just walk away from me! Hadn't we been through too much to be pulling that kind of shit? Weren't we closer than that, tighter than that, more in love than that?

_Guess not,_ I thought as I reread the story for the twentieth time, each repeat making me feel worse. But I couldn't stop.

Someone knocked on my door.

"Go away, Sharon. I'm not hungry."

The door opened anyway and a voice I both hated and wanted to hear answered, "That's not what they told me downstairs."

"What do _you_ want?" I said as Richie closed the door behind him. One of his hands was behind his back, but I didn't really pay attention to that. All my embarrassed anger was directed at him, and yet Richie didn't flinch.

Richie smiled. "Hey, man, I just wanted stop by and say I'm sorry." He lowered his gaze, his smile disappearing. His hand was still behind his back, and I looked at the unnatural position for a moment.

I sighed and closed my eyes for a moment. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too." I smiled to make him smile, and he did, crossing the room to sink into my desk chair.

"You were right," Richie went on. He set down whatever he'd brought behind his foot so I couldn't see it, then sat forward. "I was a little jealous."

I raised an eyebrow at him, still smiling.

He colored, but his smile broadened and his eyes asked me to forgive him. "Okay, I was a whole lot jealous." He was using his hands while he talked, and I was caught by how gracefully he moved. All my anger evaporated, at least for the moment, and my frustration went with it. Richie said, "But I shouldn't have let it come between us."

"You? I was the one acting the fool for the cameras. You were right." I closed my eyes again, not wanting, at least for the moment, to meet my partner's, my boyfriend's, gaze.

Richie reached out and took my left hand. "I guess we were both right. Or wrong or whatever." He smiled again, that teasing, warm smile that can bring me out of almost anything.

I grinned at him, relieved that we were cool again. Then I glanced at the newspaper again, glaring at the humiliating picture. "Stupid me thought high-tension wires would give me an edge."

Richie's eyes narrowed as he grabbed the paper. Jumping out of his seat, he stared at the picture. "That's not stupid." He sounded annoyed, like he gets when one of his inventions backfires. "It should have worked. Starburst should have been star-busted."

"Nothing works. Everything I throw at him he throws back, but stronger. It's almost as though he's feeding off me." _Wait a minute… If electricity can be transferred from a power station to people's homes, then maybe…_ "Hey, maybe he's not a metahuman."

Richie closed his eyes, pondering in that lightning-fast way of his. Then he opened his eyes and brought his hand up to his chin in a classic deductive pose. "Pinky, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

I grinned and stood. "Let's go. We'll just stop at the station and-"

But Richie was turning back to my desk chair. He bent so I couldn't see what he was doing, then turned, holding a single daisy. "I thought I might need this," he explained, blushing again. "When Bernadette drove me here, I was so nervous that I told her we had to stop somewhere so I could find something to apologize with. She was already delivering a bouquet to a friend of hers and she gave me the daisy." He was looking down at the delicate flower, one finger tracing the edge of a white petal. "She said that if I apologized I probably wouldn't need anything, but to take this just in case."

"Oh, Rich-" I took the daisy and put in on my bed. I couldn't think of anything else to say, afraid that I would open my mouth and something entirely corny and meaningless would pop out.

Richie looked up at me through his lashes.

I put gentle pressure under his chin and he raised his head until our lips met.

End Flashback

So we came close to breaking up for good, but avoided it. I know fights are natural and healthy, and sometimes they're how people grow. And I _know_ I'm not alone in hating fights. But being away from Richie is like being without my powers; I'm different, and everybody can tell.

Chapter One: Happy Birthday, Richie

As the sun set, Hotstreak settled himself on the rooftop beside Talon.

"Well?" she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she peered west.

"They'll be on lock-down for a good month. That's if somebody doesn't break them out." Hotstreak laughed and bounced a ball of fire from one hand to the other.

"Maybe you should put that out," Talon said, still gazing west. She had learned long ago that Hotstreak saw most eye-to-eye contact as a challenge. "Static might see it and come to investigate."

"I'm ready for Static."

"I know you are," she said, unconsciously adopting the attitude that had once been reserved for her cute, intelligent, younger cousins. "But I want to show you what I found, and I'm not hanging around if Static shows up?"

"Scared?"

"Smart. I like my freedom."

Hotstreak grunted at that but blew the fireball out. "So, what did you find?"

"Remember your promise," she said. "If I tell you what I found out, you'll tell me why you want to know."

"Yeah, yeah, I didn't forget. Now let's see what you found."

Talon unfolded a roadmap. "Here we are," she said, pointing. "And here's the line we're going to follow." She guided his eyes out of town and into the small suburb to Dakota's west. "This is where Gear flies after each patrol." She unfolded another map, this one of the tiny suburb. "Here's the road leading into the city and here's the community he lives in." She paused, then pointed again, very proud of herself. "And there's his house."

Talon glanced at Hotstreak to make sure he was as excited as she was. When she saw the small smile on his lips, it was enough for her. "His parents live there, of course. The woman's name is Bernadette and the man's John. Last name Corbett."

"They're not his parents," Hotstreak said. "He was taken away from his father because he was being physically abused."

She blinked. "How do you know that?"

"It was in the papers. Foley's a genius; he's important to Dakota Union High. They want to show the city that they can produce at least one good student."

"But they don't put court results in the paper unless it's a celebrity. And they don't know he's Gear, right?"

"Yeah, that's true. But Static and Gear showed up at the trial to defend Richie Foley, so it made the papers. A chunk of Gear's testimony is even printed in one article."

"But he's Richie! How could they both be there at the same time?"

"Who knows how he pulled it off? And who cares? Nobody noticed that Foley disappeared before Gear showed up and then came back in after Gear left." He shrugged. "People are stupid for the most part. Unless they've lived their lives out on the streets, they don't notice anything."

She nodded. There was some truth to that, all right. Handing over the two refolded maps, Talon asked, "So, why do you want to follow Foley anyway?"

Hotstreak briefly considered lying to her, saying that he just wanted to know where all of his enemies were. But she had been almost a friend from the beginning. He wouldn't do that to her. Lies were for associates, police and judges. And superheroes, of course. "He's interesting. I've been following him and Virgil around for weeks now. There's something about them… Something I don't quite understand."

"Like what? Maybe my woman's intuition can help."

"Or your bird-sense?"

She glared at him, but he was only teasing; she could see it in his eyes. "At least all my brains haven't been fried. Now tell me."

"Foley has guts. He lived with his father beating him for God knows how long and nobody- not even Virgil- guessed it. That was in the paper, too, the fact that Richie managed to keep it all hidden for so long. I want to know how he can do that." He looked at her to see if she was going to mock him. But she seemed interested, so he added, "And… There's something about Virgil. He- Well, he fascinates me. Nothing short. I can't figure him out or why he makes me…" He blushed.

"You're attracted to him."

Hotstreak searched her reply for any trace of mockery or disdain and found none. "I don't know, but I can't stop watching him. He's…" _can't believe I'm going to say this _"awe-inspiring. He sort of reminds me of me, except more controlled. And Foley… Well, Foley just reminds me of someone I knew once. Maybe I just want to see how close he is to her…" He cleared his throat. "To this person."

Talon nodded. "I guess I can't really help you. You've figured it all out already." She didn't touch him or even look at him, but her words were honestly meant. He could sense that. "If you find what you're looking for in Static and Gear, take it. There's too much pain in this world as there is without adding hidden heartache."

Before he could answer her, if he could have thought of anything to say, she spread her wings and glided into the rose-colored western sky.

He watched her until she had disappeared, then climbed down from the rooftop. The papers had mentioned a few other things, among them Richie's age and birth date. Hotstreak decided to get the blonde a present.

Sharon piled the gifts in the back seat next to Virgil. For once, her younger brother wasn't fussing about not being allowed to ride shotgun. He was staring off into the distance; his expression reminded Sharon of a moon-struck calf. She laughed at the thought as she straightened up.

Once she was settled in the passenger seat, her father guided the car out of the driveway. He turned on the radio, playing songs Sharon thought of as older-than-oldies, a rare station that featured music from the thirties and forties. Most of the music was being performed by living artists since the recordings from those days were many times scratched or completely destroyed, but the singers still sounded a hundred years old to Sharon.

They drove in silence for ten minutes or so. Suddenly, though, Virgil sat up from his formerly slumped, window-gazing position. "Hey! Turn that up!"

"I am a man of constant sorrow

I have seen trouble all my days…"

"That's actually a song that was revived in the sixties," Robert said. "It was a civil rights protest song." He glanced up in the mirror. "Where did you hear it, Virgil?"

"It just…" Virgil felt his face get hot. "It reminds me of Richie," he mumbled.

Sharon snorted. "Oh, Daddy, he's got if bad. Everything reminds of Richie. Maybe we should just get rid of the presents in the back and wrap up Virgil."

Virgil didn't answer.

"Do you want to talk about it, son?"

"No, I…" Virgil shrugged. "It's stupid. And I'm too young, anyway."

"He wants to marry him! I knew it! I-"

"Sharon, not now please." Robert was quiet for a moment as they listened to the music. "You're still worried about Richie?"

"No," Virgil said. He was staring at his hands. "I just…" He bit his lip. "I guess Sharon's right." He looked up quickly to see if his sister was gloating, but all he could see was the back of her head. He looked down again, grateful that she hadn't said anything. "I know we're only sixteen and it's not like I'm going to encourage him to run away with me…"

"But you'd like to have him to yourself, safe under a roof the both of you put there."

"Well, yeah." When had his father gotten so good at reading him?

As if he was reading Virgil's mind, Robert said, "When I met your mother in college, I wanted to quit school right then, find a job, any job, and ask her to marry me. I knew it would be hard on us if we got married while we were still both in school, and so I thought if I got rid of that hurdle there wouldn't be anything stopping us from getting married." He chuckled. "But a college-dropout would have had a hard time supporting a wife and children back then, and an even harder time now. Love doesn't have to take a back seat to reality, Virgil, but you have to understand something. Your urge is completely natural. Richie might feel the same way. But, hard as it is to believe, your love can survive just as well even if you're not living together." He smiled ruefully. "In fact, it may be even better because it may be based more on your growing understanding instead of your physical love."

He stopped at a traffic light. "Someday you'll both be ready to live together. And you'll both know when the right time is. But until then, enjoy what you have. This time in your life- where you can only see Richie every once in a while- won't last forever. And I know you've heard this and will think I'm old-fashioned, but absence can make the heart grow fonder if you truly love one another." He reached back and took Virgil's hands, smiling at him in the rearview mirror. "And I believe that you and Richie truly love each other."

"Daddy, the light," Sharon prompted just someone honked at them.

"I'm going, I'm going," Robert said.

The song was almost over- _It's really long, isn't it? _Sharon thought.

"All thro' this Earth I'm bound to ramble…. Thro' storm and wind… thro' sleet and rain…. I'm bound to ride that Northern railroad…

"Oh deep in my heart… I do believe…

"I am a man of constant sorrow

"I have seen trouble all my days…"

The rest was swallowed up in a guitar's purr and Virgil closed his eyes.

Thinking of Ebon. Thinking of Brainiac. Thinking of last year when he'd been grounded for running away from a policewoman, his father's girlfriend, no less. He'd been ordered to go to school and straight home, only. _I explained that to Richie and he said:_

/Flashback/

"Oh man! Doesn't he know we have talent show practice?"

"Not the extracurricular activity I was thinking of, Rich. My other late-night gig. The Bang Babies are going to run wild."

"Oh, yeah. I guess that could be bad, too."

And later…

Richie, talking as they walked home from school later that same day: "Daisy and Frieda are doing karaoke to Destiny's Child."

"Really?" Virgil asked. He wasn't sure, but for some reason he couldn't quite imagine Frieda singing. "Who are they getting for the third singer?"

Richie put his hand on his chest like a great star who has somehow managed to keep the just-us touch. "Me me me me," he sang.

/End Flashback/

Virgil could imagine Richie singing "Man of Constant Sorrow." Because, even though he didn't use it much, Richie had a pretty good voice. _I guess we both do, but Richie really gets into it. I'm never heard anybody sing with such abandon. He completely forgot that the rest of the school was watching him, listening to him. He was caught up in the music._

As the song faded, Virgil admitted, _And the other reason that song reminds me of Richie is because he's been through so much. But as to why it made me think of wanting to marry him? Who knows?_

Shaking his head, not wanting to answer such questions (they made him feel older than he wanted to be just then) Virgil looked out the window. They would be at Richie's house in another minute.

Sean shut off the computer after his fourth all-nighter. Nothing he tried seemed to work. How hard could it be to find one missing teenager? His search of foster homes in this state hadn't gone anywhere; there was no list of the children that had been placed in each family. And he knew not all the families were on the database.

_I wish I'd paid more attention in court. I'm sure they said the names of Richie's foster parents at least once. _He had then tried to get a copy of the notes from the trial, thinking that the stenographer would have written down the names of the people that were holding his son. No luck there, either.

Next, he'd logged onto the local Community Center's website and emailed its head, Virgil's damned father, Robert. He'd kept his real identity and secret, of course, and had only said that he was a friend of Richie's from school and wanted to know where he was staying. Robert Hawkins' reply? "Come on down to the center and we can talk about it. I can't give information over the Internet, especially something like that." Now maybe the man was just following policy, but Sean thought he was probably suspicious and was just making excuses.

So he tried emailing Robert as a member of Children Protection Services. That email was answered in a similar way.

So he tried one last thing. "Dear Dad," he wrote, "I was hoping you'd send me Richie's address. I can't remember it and I want to send him a letter. Love, Virgil."

Robert's answer came back less than five minutes later. "Since Virgil is at Richie's right now, and since all these emails have come from the same address, I only have three words for you: Back off, Foley."

_But I thought I programmed the email not to show my address! _Sean felt like chewing glass. He'd chew it, then spit it right in Robert Hawkins' face. _How dare you keep me from my son, you self-righteous bastard! Who are you to say that I don't have Richie's best interests at heart? How can you think that you know him better than his own father does?_

Except, he had to admit, Robert probably had known about Richie and Virgil before he, Sean, had discovered the truth.

_But that's not the point! I know Richie; I know what he really needs, and it isn't some nigger boy for a boyfriend!_ He had jumped up from his computer then and had screamed at it, "He's not even gay!"

Now all Sean felt was helplessness. _I'm no closer to finding my son and it's been over a month. What the hell am I going to do?_

He raised his head and raised his hands. "Damn you, God, help me! All I want is to help my son! Please let me help him!" He was crying without realizing it. "It's his goddamned birthday, God, and I can't give him a hug, let alone a present. Can't you help me?"

There was no answer.

Sean stormed out of the room. He was going to take a drive to calm himself down. But when he shoved the door between the kitchen and the garage open, his eyes fell on a can of red paint. All the strength seemed to go out of his legs and he sat on the top step, staring at the can.

_Red is a good color. It's the color of love. I love Richie. It's also the color of warning. Stop signs are red. I want to warn Robert Hawkins away from my boy. I want to warn Virgil away from him, too. Red is also the color of hate. I want them to understand that I hate them both, that I won't tolerate anything they do to my son._

He sat forward, his elbows on his knees. _Blood is also red. I'll exact blood as payment for every little lie they've planted in Richie's head._

He was grinning now. _And of course red is the color of sin. White is it's opposite, the symbol of purity. That's why we wear white robes. We are washed clean of sin in the blood of the Lamb. Jesus' blood was red, too, but it cleanses. Most blood coils, but some blood, blood from a pure source, can cleanse._

I_ can cleanse. First I will warn them, then I will cleanse them. First I will find Richie and cleanse him, but I can still warn the niggers that I'm going to cleanse them, too._

He stood and crossed the garage to the bucket of paint. As he hunted for a paintbrush, he thought, _Did I think God wouldn't answer? Who else could have left this paint here for me to find?_

Finding two brushes, one with a fine tip, the other with blunt bristles, he picked up the unopened can and got into his car, putting his things on the seat. _The can was unopened, and that's as it should be. The paint, too, must be pure._

But when he pulled out of the garage, he saw that it was still daylight, though the sun was riding low in the west. _I'll have to wait until after nightfall. Some purification can only happen at night. And warnings are best appreciated in the dark._

Richie spread the icing on the cooled cake while Bernadette stirred the soup and tossed together her famous salad.

"I don't think the birthday boy is supposed to make his own cake," John noted from where he stood in the kitchen doorway.

Richie shook his head. "What can I say? Mom knew how to make the most amazing icing and I couldn't let that knowledge go waste." He froze in what he was doing, then shook his head. "Sorry. I was just thinking about her."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Bernadette said, keeping her tone light. "She would have wanted to you."

"We'll go see her next week?" Richie asked.

"If the hospital still gives the all-clear, we'll go after I get home from work," Bernadette answered.

Richie glanced over his shoulder at her, ant both them, and smiled. "Okay. Then I'll think about her after the party." He went back to spreading the icing, making little swirls and ruffles in it. He even scalloped the edges to the best of his ability, though the spoon he held wasn't exactly made for the task. _I'll have to buy some better baking tools. Once I get a job. Or sell my inventions. Whichever comes first. As it is, nobody will accept an invention from a fifteen-_ he grinned- _I mean sixteen-year old. I'll have to wait until I'm eighteen. _His thoughts turned to college, but he pushed that away. _I don't have anything saved. I'm not really a Foley anymore, so I probably won't get the money Mom and Dad were saving in a college fund._

He felt a pang as he thought of his father, but turned his mind away from the man just as he had stopped thinking about his mother.

_Later I can do all that. For tonight, we celebrate and I get to see Virg. Besides on patrol, I mean._

He thought of the birthday kisses he would get and both of his parents vanished from his mind.

With dexterous fingers, he wrote, "Happy Birthday, Richie" on the cake, made a few more small decorations around the letters and stepped back. It would almost be a shame to ruin the cake by cutting it. "What time is it?"

"Five-thirty."

_They'll be here at six. _Richie closed his eyes. _BP? _

_I'm here, Richie. I have uncovered another step on the way to connecting you and Virgil. Would you like to see it?_

_That's great! But can I look later tonight? I was hoping you'd come put a picture of this cake in your memory._

_Of course. I will be up in a minuet._

John turned his head an instant later as they all heard the sound of the basement door opening. "Do you think it's safe, Richie? What if the Hawkins' arrive early?"

"Backpack is a master at hiding," Richie answered, grinning. He was so glad to be able to give Backpack the run of the house. It made him feel less lonely And safer. Not just because the robot was nearby, but because it was another sign that Richie could completely trust the people he lived with.

Backpack entered the kitchen. "Hello, John. Hello, Bernadette."

Bernadette, quick adapter that she was, had taken to Backpack immediately. And as to the fact he sounded like Richie… _Well, when I was little, I always wanted to sound like my big sister._ "Come to see the progress we've made?"

"Yes. And to look at Richie's cake."

Richie picked up the pan and held it so Backpack could look.

"It is beautiful, Richie. Do you remember the one you made for Virgil's birthday? The one you gave him in the gas station?"

Richie laughed as he put the cake on the counter. "Yeah, I do. Do you have an image of it?"

John and Bernadette gazed at the holographic projection of a cake decorated with ten different shades of colored icing. The cake read: "For Static, who will be young forever Happy Birthday"

"You should get a job in a bakery," John said.

"Forget that!" Bernadette exclaimed. "You should open your own cake-designing business!"

Richie blushed. "Thanks."

Backpack made the image disappear. He gazed expectantly up at Richie.

The blonde dropped to one knee. _Come on, BP, I want to give you something. _He stood and the two of them left the kitchen.

Upstairs, Richie closed his door and went to his closet. He dug something from the back and held it out to Backpack, who had hopped up onto the bed. "This is four your four-mouth birthday."

Backpack stared. "Richie, you did not need-"

"Yes I did. Open it." Richie sat on the bed beside the robot. "Please."

Backpack pulled the paper off. A bag rested inside. It was a backpack (no pun intended) that looked handmade. He touched it, wondering at it. _Richie, what-?_

"It's so I can carry you. It defies gravity, so I'll be able to have you with me all the time, even at school."

"Did you make this?"

Richie knew Backpack meant the bag, not the invention inside it that made it feather-light. "My sewing skills aren't that good, BP. It was all I could do to sew the antigrav unit into the same." He picked it up. "Want to try it on?"

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Richie ignored it. "Come on; let me see how it fits."

"Go let the rest of your family in, Richie. This can wait."

Richie bit his lip. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'll find a way to put it on." Backpack touched Richie's hand. "Go on. I'll see you in a few hours." As Richie stood, smiling, Backpack added, _And I'm always here._

Richie bent and hugged the robot. _I know. _He left, closing the door behind him.

Hotstreak looked at the tiny statue of the phoenix he'd swiped. _It took me all day to find this thing. I'd better send it._ He thought of what his Aunt Sue would think of her only nephew stealing so he could give someone a present. _She'd be furious at me for stealing, then tell me my heart was n the place but that if I couldn't' buy Richie anything to just go tell him how I feel. Except I don't know how I feel._

He wrapped the phoenix, thinking too that his Aunt Sue was the one to tell him about the fiery bird, how it was born in fire, died in fire and rose again. _She used to tease me about my red hair, saying maybe I was a phoenix and just managed to leave my nest without my wings._

He wondered if Richie would make the connection.

_He's a genius. He should. But even if he doesn't, it's okay. I can wait. For now, I just want to make him smile. Maybe make him a little confused, too. I wish I could see his expression when he opens the box. Oh well, like Mom said a lot before she left: Wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up first._

It was the only memory of his mother he could genuinely smile at, so he let himself smile.

"Is it done?" Talon walked over to him. "I want to get it over there before it gets too late. If someone doesn't see it tonight, somebody else might steal it."

Hotstreak shook his head. "Not in a nice, safe suburb they won't." But he finished the wrapping with a string tied around it to make it easy for Talon to carry in her back claws, and handed it over. "Careful. It's ceramic."

She snorted. "Don't you think I've carried things this delicate before?" She took the parcel and flew off.

Hotstreak watched her until she was out of sight. _Happy birthday, F- Richie_

As the party wound down (not that it had gotten all that rowdy) Virgil took Richie by the hand and the two of them sought the darkness and privacy of the tree house. Above them, the stars sang one to another and Virgil's thoughts of asking Richie to marry him returned. He pushed it away and concentrated on the way Richie gazed up at the sky. Virgil drew Richie back against him, sitting as they had before with Virgil wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's waist from behind.

Richie took Virgil's clasped hands in his. "I love you, Virg." Shaking his head, he added, "I can't stop saying that. I'm so lucky you've been here for me. In every way." He relaxed against Virgil and closed his eyes as Virgil kissed his cheek softly, then nuzzled his shoulder and neck.

"But you know things are going to be different now, right?" Richie went on.

Virgil tensed. "Different how?"

Richie felt the strain his words had caused and regretted speaking. But now that it was out... "Everything's going to be different. I won't be attending Dakota Union High in the fall, for one thing. For another, Slipstream at least knows who I am, and why wouldn't he tell Ebon? Hotstreak doesn't owe Ebon anything, but I think underneath all that hot air Slipstream is a boot-licker. He'll want to get in good with Ebon."

Virgil didn't answer, and so Richie went on. "When they get out of prison- and you can't tell me that won't be pretty soon, or at least too soon for our liking- Slipstream will have a new target. He likes you, V, or rather, Static. He was going for you. That's why I… misjudged the Zap Caps I threw. I wasn't thinking."

That last lie hung between them. Virgil cleared his throat.

"Okay, that's why I let a water Cap and an electricity Cap fly. I didn't want to kill him, but I wanted to get him away from you. And I don't have an anti-Slipstream invention. Yet." He sighed, frustrated that Virgil still wasn't talking. "I've said I'm sorry already, Virg. What more do you want?"

"Are you really sorry?"

Richie blinked, stung. "How can…?" He groaned and drew away from Virgil, turning to face him. "How can you ask me that?" But he saw the answer in Virgil's eyes: Virgil had seen the fury on Richie's face. "Okay, stupid question. But yes, I am sorry. I wasn't sorry at first- for about a minute or so- but I'm sorry now. Though I don't know what else I could have done. And if I couldn't think of another way to keep him off of you, I would do it again."

"I've just never seen you lose it like that before," Virgil said. "And where did you get that thing you said? It would have been funny if you weren't so…"

"Out of control?" Richie shrugged, blushing a little. "I read it in a book once. I never thought it would pop out of my mouth, though I remember liking it when I read it. I even wrote in on the underside of my desk at… back at my old house because it made me feel strong when I needed to be strong." He shrugged again. "It won't happen again, either me saying those words or me losing it. I love you, but I don't want to end up as one of Batman's supervillian crazies." He drew his knees up and rested his chin on them. "I don't want to ever give you a reason to have to bring me in."

Virgil stared at him, his jaw slack. "Richie, I would never…"

"If you had to, you would. I know it." Richie's smile was without warmth. "If you had to, you would. Not because you ever wanted to, but because you wouldn't want the police doing it. And, well, because you know what it's like to lose control like that." They both knew it was Daisy's injury during a battle that Richie was talking about and Virgil's resulting rage. True, that had been when Virgil had a crush on her, but how much more did he love Richie?

"Yeah, I know what it's like." Virgil sighed, then reached out and took one of Richie's hands. "I guess I just never thought I'd see that side of you. I didn't think you ever had any hateful thoughts."

"I don't know if I was hateful or just desperate and scared out of my ever-lovin' tree." Richie's lips curved up a little, some humor creeping back in. He sobered at once. "But if it was hatred, you can bet I'll be keeping an eye on what I think about. Because now I have more than just you and me and Dakota to worry about."

Virgil blinked. "Like what?"

"Like God." Richie blushed. "You and I never talk religion, do we, V?"

Virgil scratched his head. "No. You've been to our church sometimes, but…" Then he got it. "But you were also attending those meetings. And the KKK teaches that what they say comes right from the mouth of God. Oh, Richie…" He smacked himself on the side of the head. "You must think Christians are a bunch of back-stabbing, faithless idiots."

"Actually, no." Richie fought against the desire to laugh. "What I thought was that Christianity was just like any other religion- groundless and not helpful, only sometimes destructive. Though I'll admit I prayed to God a lot. But most of my prayers were right up my father's alley: Please, God, burn down the meeting hall so I don't have to go tonight. Please, God, tell Virg to come set fire to the building. Things like that. And also some like this: Please give me the courage to tell V how I feel before I go totally crazy. And since I believed those prayers were being heard (not to mention that they'd probably get me sent to Hell) I didn't completely discount Christianity. Just the KKK form. And I never thought I could have the real connection with God you hear about on Touched By An Angel."

Shifting position, Richie sat cross-legged in front of his boyfriend. "But when I was with the Edmann's, I met this really interesting pastor. His name was Reverend Ovid." He saw Virgil's eyebrows shoot up and Richie snickered. "Yeah, it was actually his name that got me to chill out for two seconds and listen to him. I know I shouldn't have been fooled by his name, but I was missing you so badly that I didn't mind any connection that I could have to you, even if it was in my head." Swiftly, he told Virgil what had happened that day, and then how he'd given his life to Christ shortly after. "It's something I think about, but it's not something I, well, advertise. I figure we're targets enough being gay and being superheroes. I didn't want to add another label to that."

Virgil said then what he had always believed: "It doesn't matter what you tell people about yourself, but what you do for them. How you help them. Then if they ask why you're helping, you can say something like "because Jesus helped and I want to be like him." But most people will know you by what you do, Richie." He reached out, silently asking Richie to come sit in front of him again. Richie complied. "I always knew without having to ask that you talked to God and were trying to do your best. Or that you had some sort of faith," he added, "because love comes from everywhere, not just from religion." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I sound like an after-school special."

"We seem to do that often enough," Richie noted. "Maybe everybody sounds like that sometimes and we're just now hearing it. I mean, how many times has your pops told you to treat others as you want to be treated?"

"More times than the sky has stars." Virgil chuckled. "I guess you're right." He leaned forward and kissed Richie's neck. "I guess we should go in. I have to go home soon. Will I see you on patrol?"

Richie hesitated. "Well, actually, I promised I'd help BP with something."

"Okay." Virgil got to his feet and lifted Richie with him. "Maybe I'll skip tonight, anyway. There really hasn't been any action. With Ebon and ninety-five percent of his crew in jail, there really isn't much for two superheroes to do." He started climbing down the ladder and Richie followed. "Besides," Virgil added, half-musing. I think I want to do a sketch of your ass for my next comic. I just can never get Gear's ass right I think you two are pretty close in shape and-" he reached up, pinching Richie lightly- "size."

Richie glanced over his shoulder, scowling. He aimed a kick at Virgil's head.

"Hey, I was just kidding!" Virgil dropped the last three feet to the ground, closely pursued by Richie. The two of them took off through the woods, Virgil having to go slower than he would have liked because he didn't know where all the trees were.

But Richie had spent more than a few hours playing in the woods with the next door neighbors' black Labrador, Fantasia. He caught Virgil around the middle and crowed, "Got you! What're you gonna do now, V Man? Call for your posse. I think they're all in Dakota, though. No, wait-" he continued as Virgil laughed and struggled to break free- "I know! _I'm_ your posse. Oh, you've really got a problem now, Virg."

"Yeah, don't I know it." Virgil reached back and tickled Richie, making him squeak and let go. Turning, Virgil grabbed Richie's hands, dragged him close and kissed him hard, forcing him to open his mouth.

Richie stilled for an instant (not long enough for Virgil to think anything of it) then attacked the tongue inside his mouth with his own. Moaning, he thrust his hips against Virgil's, silently egging him on. _My mouth is yours, _that movement said. _And more than that, if you want it._

Virgil responded by wrapping his arms around Richie and leaving off Richie's mouth to attack his neck.

Gasping, Richie clung to Virgil's shoulders and continued to thrust against him. "Please, V…" He could feel his legs shaking, his knees giving way. "Please, Virg, I'm going to fall."

Virgil put one arm around Richie's back, supporting him as he continued to kiss his way from Richie's pulse point up to his ear and back down to the gap between his neck and shoulder. He pushed Richie's t-shirt back, exposing as much of Richie's soft skin. Using that arm, he drew Richie closer still as Richie began to tremble all over.

"V… Virg… V…"

Virgil stopped Richie's mouth with his own. Drawing back slightly, he whispered, "Say it again, Richie."

"V…" Richie arched up, throwing his head back. "Please…"

_He'll have a mark on his neck when I'm done. _Virgil grinned. _Good. Let everyone know that he's taken, that he belongs to someone. _He found that he wanted a similar mark on his neck. _Maybe I can encourage Richie to do that._

"Virgil!" called Sharon from the back porch. "It's time to go! Come on, lazy butt!"

_She can't us from where she is,_ Virgil thought as he returned to the assault on Richie's neck.

But the blonde pushed him back. "Come on, Virg; they were nice enough to drive you out here." He snickered. "Besides, do you want her to come out here and start looking for us? Or worse, tell your pops what she thinks we might be doing out here and why we didn't come when she called?"

Virgil's face got hot and he straightened up. "You really know how to put a lid a situation you know that, Rich?"

"It's what I do best." He started to guide Virgil towards the house, skirting nearly-invisible trees without so much as a second thought. "It's how Gear diffuses his partner, right?"

"Yeah, maybe, but right now you're frustrating him."

"Not my fault. Duty calls. Or at least your sister." They emerged from the woods and Richie waved to Sharon on the porch. "Caught him!" he called. "He was trying to-"

Virgil covered Richie's mouth with his hand. "Pay no attention to the crazy man in the t-shirt," he declared. "He's on his way to the funny farm."

"Just hurry up," Sharon said before she turned around and stalked back inside.

"I think she was laughing," Richie noted after freeing his mouth from Virgil's hand. They had reached the back steps. Turning, Richie smiled shyly.

The change was so different from the person he'd just been kissing that Virgil would have suspected body snatchers if he wasn't used to Richie's two sides, his bold side that wanted Virgil's tongue in his mouth and wasn't afraid to take it, and the side of him that wanted Virgil's tongue but would ask. Virgil leaned forward and kissed Richie chastely before heading up the stairs, his fingers interlaced with his boyfriend's.

They entered the house as one. The kitchen was deserted. Virgil frowned, thinking how quiet the house was. Richie just shrugged and opened the door between the kitchen and the living room.

Bernadette and John were sitting on the couch cushions and Sharon was sitting on one arm. Robert was leaning forward in the rocking chair. All of them were staring at the small box on the coffee table.

"Pops, what's that?" Virgil asked, moving to stand beside his father.

Richie went to the other side of the coffee table and knelt there. He turned up the card that was taped to the top of the box. _To: Richie Foley. Happy Birthday, Richie!_

The exclamation point was huge. And there was nothing written next to the word from.

"Where did it come from?" Virgil asked.

"It was out on the porch," John said. "Any idea who it's from, Richie?"

"I don't recognize the handwriting. I could see if it matches any of the ones in my computer, though." He took the card off.

"Worry about it later," said Sharon. "Maybe if you open it you'll figure it out."

Virgil left his pops' side and knelt beside Richie. He shared a meaningful look with his partner, then watched as Richie untied the string around the box and pulled off the tape, releasing the lid.

Richie opened the box and gasped. "It's beautiful," he whispered, removing the ceramic phoenix. The tiny, exquisitely-carved bird-in-flight seemed to glow with its own life. Richie noted the decorative flames below it and nodded to himself, confirming it was indeed a phoenix. Carefully, he lifted it out of the box and handed it to Virgil, who gazed at it for a moment before passing it to his pops.

Richie reached into the box, looking for any note of explanation. There was none. Sitting back on his heels, he frowned. _Who do I know who would send me a phoenix? Who knows I'm here, for one thing besides the people in this room? _He watched as John traced the flames beneath the graceful bird. _Flames… No, couldn't be. Why would he send _me_ anything? Just because we've declared a temporary truce doesn't mean we're friends, or even allies. And how did he figure out my birth date, anyway? _But that one he could answer, at least: the newspaper, _The Dakota Sun_, had printed it. _And Hotstreak's no idiot. If he wanted to know, he'd find a way._

Then he shivered. _But what if it isn't from him? What if it's from Dad?_

His skin felt as if it was going to crawl right off his back. _No. _He shook his head. _No. He'd never send me a magical, make-believe creature. A Bible with the pages covered in swastikas, maybe, but not this._

He took in a steadying breath. _It had to come from Hotstreak. _Glancing at Virgil, he thought he swathe same knowledge in the other teen's eyes. _I'll call him on the Shock Vox tonight to make sure._ _For now… _He smiled and looked at everyone in turn. "It's probably from Reverend Ovid or something. He loves birds. I'll email him in the morning."

"Well, it's very nice whoever it came from," Bernadette said, rising. The others imitated her. "When will you be visiting again, Virgil?"

"In a few days, I hope." Virgil hugged Richie when they reached the front door but didn't kiss him.

"That's a very interesting mark on your neck, Richie," Sharon said. "Did you fall?"

"Back off, Barky," Virgil said just as his father said, "_Sharon_…"

Richie was red as a tomato. But he was also trying very hard not to laugh. "Good night, V. Bye, Sharon, Mr. H. Thanks for coming. And thank you for the presents."

He and his foster parents stood on the porch and waved until the car was out of sight. Then Bernadette turned to Richie and said, "It's not from the reverend, is it?"

Richie waited until they were back in the house with the door closed. "No. I think it's from a sort of friend of Static's and mine."

"A sort-of friend?" John asked.

"Somebody who used to be an enemy but has been acting very, very strange lately." He smiled at them, reassuring them. "Don't worry. There's no bomb or anything dangerous in it. Backpack would have sensed it the minute it came in the house. It's just a statue." He moved towards the kitchen. "I'll help clean up, then I promised I'd look at Backpack's breakthrough." He glanced over his shoulder when he realized they weren't following him. They stood holding hands and looking at him. "What?" Richie grinned, then saw they weren't joking; they were really worried. He came back into the living room. "Virg and I deal with this stuff all the time; it's okay. Really."

"We've just never had a superhero for a son before," Bernadette said. "It's going to take some getting used to."

Richie blinked several times. "Do you really think of me as your son?"

"Of course, Richie. How could we not?" John approached and put his arm around Richie's shoulders. Bernadette also walked forward and hugged him.

Richie hugged them back, swallowing the lump in his throat, but his voice still came out scratchy. "I love you."

Bernadette was shedding silent tears. "We love you too, Richie."

They broke apart after a moment and John cleared his throat and rubbed at his face. "Those dishes aren't going to wash themselves."

The family of three walked into the kitchen.

Sharon quit ribbing Virgil about the mark on Richie's neck only after her father announced she would be washing dishes for the next month if she didn't stop. Glancing at Virgil in the rearview mirror, Sharon said, "You're getting off easy."

Virgil stuck his tongue out and her, but he was thinking, _If that's easy, I don't want to see hard. And I thought having everybody see that I love Richie would make me feel good. _He slouched down in his seat. _If Richie's getting even half this much abuse, I won't leave any more marks where people can see them. I'll just suck on his nipples or the inside of his arm or- _He stopped when body protested the tightness of his pants. Blushing, Virgil was glad he was wearing a long shirt. He sat up and pulled it down. _Or maybe I should just think about something else._

At once, his mind turned to the present that had been left on Richie's porch. Virgil balled his hands into fists. _It can't be from Hotstreak. Why would he want to send Richie something anyway? Why? It can't be from him. It's totally out of character._

Except, hadn't so many things Hotstreak had done lately been out of character? From protecting Richie in the face of the KKK members to leading Virgil, Batman and J'onn to Ebon's hideout, Hotstreak hadn't been acting like himself. Virgil searched his memory to see when he could last remember Hotstreak setting anything on fire. Bewildered, he decided at last that he hadn't seen the pyro light up since the ambush. _And that was over a month ago! What the hell is wrong with Hotstreak? Maybe he found out he only had a month to live or something._

_Which would mean he's dead by now. _Virgil snorted at his own thoughts. _No, Hotstreak's not dead. He's out there. He left the present for Richie. But why didn't Backpack send Richie a warning? Or, a better question: how'd he find Richie in the first place, and what is he going to do now that he knows where Richie lives?_

He realized his nails were biting into his palms and he forced his hands to relax. _Hotstreak has known where I live for a lot longer, and he's known who my secret identity as long as he's known Richie's._

_Yeah, but he didn't send _you_ a birthday present._

_But he didn't know who we were when I turned sixteen._

Confused and more than a little angry, Virgil admitted, _I don't want him concentrating on Richie. It was always good before when we were in school because even if Hotstreak picked on me, beat me up, he hardly noticed Richie. It was like Richie had an invisibility cloak around him, or a shield of ice that made Hotstreak's eyes skate right over him._

But now…

Yes, now. Now Hotstreak was stalking Richie.

_He just left him a birthday present! What's wrong with that?_

_He's _my_ Richie, that's what's wrong with that._ Virgil scowled.

"Your face will get stuck like that," Sharon said from the front seat, her eyes focused on the sign with their street name on it. The car turned.

Virgil's face cleared. Her words weren't Richie's, but they were close enough. People said you looked like what you thought about. _Do I really want to look angry all the time? Not when Richie doesn't want me to be angry._ He took several deep breaths and forced himself calm.

"Virgil, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Sharon said, staring straight ahead. "I'm happy for you and Richie. You're-" She let out a breathless scream just as her father slammed on the breaks.

Virgil looked up quickly, somehow expecting Hotstreak to be standing in front of their car without flames bouncing in his hands. Maybe even for Richie to be at his feet.

At first, when Virgil saw the front of their house, he couldn't credit it. _It's too dark for me to see anything, _he thought as a sense of unreality washed over him. But a moment later, he remembered that were was a bright street light near their house and that, what was more, his pops had left the porch light on before they left.

Robert Hawkins drove the car to the curb and parked. "Stay in the car," he ordered. "Keep the doors locked." He got out.

"Daddy!" Sharon cried. "You shouldn't-"

"Whoever did it might still be there," Virgil finished, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the area.

"Stay here," Robert snapped and he slammed the door.

_Damn it, where's a nice distraction when I need one? _Virgil thought, tugging at his shirt. The tank top of his Static costume was concealed underneath and his light-weight, protective, black pants were hidden under his jeans. True, he wouldn't have the right shoes, but who cared? No one ever looked at his feet anyway, right?

The door was decorated with a tree painted in bright red; all of the marks standing forth in that screaming red. Hanging from the tree was a rope with a noose at the end of it. Beneath this was written: Lynching has a place when the dog won't listen.

But the larger image was painted across the door and onto the side of the house. Beneath a rude cross was written: Happy Birthday, Richie I'll bring you home soon

"Foley," Virgil whispered. "Sean… fucking… Foley."

"Don't swear," ordered Sharon in a shaky, distant voice.

"The police have to believe the son of a bitch is a danger to Richie now," Virgil went on, scarcely realizing that he was speaking out loud. "They have to. They can't ignore this." But something Richie had written in his long story/confession came back to Virgil and he wondered how much truth there was to it: The Ku Klux Klan had always had an underground foothold in Dakota. Maybe it was because so many of the organization's dispossessed members had moved to the city in the late eighties, or maybe it was just that Dakota's police seemed not to take notice of hate crimes in general, but the KKK had thrived in this one city even though it had diminished in so many others.

_It's just that Dakota's police seemed not to take notice of hate crimes in general._ Virgil felt his temper flare. _If they won't take him in after this, I'll pick him up myself and ask Batman to look after him. Maybe a few decades in Arckem will straighten him out. Or break him. Whichever._

Robert had approached the front door. He didn't touch anything, but looked around carefully before returning to the car. Without a word, he unlocked his door, climbed in and started the engine. As he pulled away from the curb, Virgil turned his eyes back to the house. And there, in the shadows, he swore he saw something move. He opened his mouth to say something, but a minute later, as his father swung the car that way, the headlights flooded that area Virgil had been looking at. It was empty.

_I'm just jumpy. _Virgil scowled again and didn't get any warnings about the state of his face from his sister.

At the police station, Robert marched in with his son and daughter following in his wake. Neither of his children had seen him this angry in a long time. Robert stalked up to the desk and demanded to see the on-duty sergeant.

"What is the nature of your complaint, sir?" the officer behind the desk asked. She looked both startled and prepared to help.

"My house was just sprayed with hate messages threatening both my family and my son's friend, Richie."

She picked up the phone on her desk, hit three buttons and spoke into it.

Robert glanced at Virgil and Sharon as they came to stand beside him. Digging in his pocket, he tossed Virgil some change. "Call Richie. Warn him."

Virgil nodded and strode away as the officer at the desk announced, "Captain Tsakatos will be with you in a moment. Please take a seat."

When Robert and Sharon were seated, the woman brought them a form on a clipboard. "Fill this out, please. Can I get you some coffee or tea?"

Sharon said, "I'll have coffee, please." Her hands were shaking. "Not a fully cup," she added, glancing down at her hands. She clasped them together, but still they trembled.

Virgil was standing with his back to his family. His face was set and he was determined not to lose his temper on the phone. That wouldn't help Richie. He dropped in the money and dialed the number.

"Corbett's residence, Richie-"

"Rich, it's Virgil. Listen. Somebody wrote "Happy Birthday Richie I'll bring you home soon on our front door." He took in a quick breath. "I think it was your dad, but it could be the same person who sent you the present."

"But you don't think so." Richie's voice was flat.

"No. I don't. He also drew a tree and a noose and said something about dogs dying. Hot- that guy- isn't racist."

"Where are you?" Now Richie's voice had a note of tension in it.

"At the police station. Sharon, Pops and me. We're safe."

"I can fly out there in ten minutes."

"I won't be able to get away. And I don't want you there alone.

"Virg-"

Even if he doesn't recognize you, he could still be there and could attack you. He has a grudge against you now, G. You kicked his ass in court."

The memory of what had happened the last time Virgil was nervous and Richie didn't listen hung thick between them.

"I'll stay here," Richie promised. "I'll call the JL, though."

"Okay." Virgil was biting his lip and twisting the phone cord. "Richie… Do you think he knows where you live?"

Richie was silent for a moment, then he said, "My new address was in the papers. I think that's how Franny found me. I'll tell the JL to come here before they go to Dakota."

It was all he could do, and Virgil realized that. "Pops is going to tell the police here that you're in danger. We won't let anything happen to you, Rich. I promise."

"It'll be okay, V," Richie said, his voice low. "I'll set up a protection system here until the JL comes." He paused, then said, "Don't go back to your house, okay?"

"We won't." Virgil glanced over his shoulder when he heard a door open. A man was shaking hands with his father. "Gotta go, Richie. I love you."

"Love you, too, V. Be careful."

Tension was crawling up Virgil's back and settling in his shoulders, hardening them, turning them to painful-tight springs. "Back atcha. Bye."

"Bye. Love you." Richie hung up.

Virgil looked at the receiver for a moment, then put it back. His hands shaking as badly as Sharon's had been, he went to join his family. _God, don't let him hurt. Don't let him figure out where Richie lives. Don't let anything happen to my Richie._

**A/N #2:** I must be losing my touch. Only one review? Who did I annoy?

**Moonjava:** Here's book three's beginning. Trouble just doesn't know how to take a hike, does it? Poor Richie.


	11. Stand Strong and BP Log

**A/N:** Okay, a couple of things. First, I'm posting two chapters at once to make up for how long this took. Second, I'm going to be gone for two weeks, so I can't post or even write during that time. I'll get back to this as soon as I can. Third, take care, now!

Book III

Chapter Two: Stand Strong Against the Night

Backpack's Personal Log (4)

Chapter Two: Stand Strong Against the Night

Backpack planted the last sensor outside the house and reported in. _Richie?_

_Here, BP. Is everything all set?_

_Yes. The sensors are fully operational. Have you reached the Justice League?_

_Green Lantern and Flash are coming here and Batman, Superman and J'onn are going to Dakota. They're going to track down my father, I think._

_You seem afraid, Richie. I assure you they will find him._

_That's what I'm afraid of. BP... He's still my father, even if he's an asshole. And I know what Batman does to criminals. What if he goes postal on my dad?_

_I think that if J'onn and Superman are there, they will prevent such an event from occurring. Both of them have considerable control over their emotions, and Batman would listen to them._

A pause; they both felt Richie's fear ease. _You're probably right. Come inside so I can activate the sensors._

_I'm on my way._

Backpack glanced around once before heading for the back door. Reaching up, he turned the knob and slipped inside, closing and locking the door behind him. Richie wasn't in the kitchen, so Backpack sent, _I'm in. Where are you?_

_In the living room. Bernadette and John are really shaken. Maybe this is why Virg doesn't tell his pops._

Backpack entered the next room, noting that Bernadette and John were sitting on the couch with Richie between them. Richie was looking between them, trying to reassure them without saying much. When he saw Backpack, he held out a hand.

Backpack crossed to him and scuttled up the back of the couch to settle by Richie's shoulder. "Everything will be well," the small robot said. "The sensors that have been planted will give us enough advance notice to defend ourselves."

"But defend ourselves with what?" John asked. "You can't use your inventions, Richie."

"I can use Backpack. Like I said, he's very good at hiding." He shook his head. "Besides, Green Lantern and Flash will be here soon. And we don't even know if my father will come here. He may not even know where I live."

"It was in the papers," Bernadette said. She was twisting a part of the afghan that hung over the back of the couch. "He isn't a foolish man, Richie."

_I can't afford to be afraid, _Richie told Backpack. _I never realized how civilians act. How Virg and I used to act. _Aloud, he said, "No, but he may be too angry to think of that." He took their hands in his. "Listen to me. If is the only word a thousand letters long. There's nothing more we can prepare. Why don't we play a game?" _Can't believe I'm suggesting this. _"I know you have Sorry! and Monopoly. Which one should we play?"

They didn't answer.

Richie stood, turning to face them. "Okay, I'm thinking of a number between one and twenty. John, your game is Monopoly. Guess the number."

John gaped at him for a moment, then got his mouth working. "Fourteen."

"Bernadette?"

"Eight." Her hands were shaking as she let go of the afghan and clasped them in her lap.

"The number was-" _pick one, Rich, and quick!- _"nine. I'll get the Sorry! board." _BP, can you take them to the kitchen table?_

_Of course._

Richie started for the corner of the living room where the games lay in a cunning little chest.

The sensors went off, blaring loudly. Richie spun around in time to see John and Bernadette jump. He opened his mouth to speak, but Backpack said, _Richie, down!_

The blonde dropped and Backpack pulled Bernadette and John to the floor.

_What is it, BP? _Richie was crawling towards the couch, where Backpack was trying to drag the couple around to the back side.

_A great power source. Perhaps a machine gun or-_

The alarms stopped abruptly. At the same moment, there came a sharp knock on the front door. "Richie, it's us," came The Flash's voice.

Richie was on his feet and across the room at once. He opened the door, letting in the two heroes, then shut and locked it behind him. "Sorry about that," he muttered, seeing the flustered look on Flash's face. Green Lantern was as inscrutable as ever. "I put up an early warning system."

"A good idea," GL said, "but maybe next time you should warn us."

Richie nodded, chagrined. Then he turned, gesturing as his foster parents stood. "This is Bernadette and John. My… parents." He liked the way that sounded and when Bernadette smiled at him a little, Richie grinned. "This is Green Lantern and The Flash."

John was nodding. "We've seen the news." He came forward and held out his hand, which both older heroes shook. Bernadette did the same. "Forgive us," said John. "We've just never had a son who was a superhero before. We're not used to all of this."

"You're lucky to have such a confident, mature hero for a son," GL said.

Richie beamed, then turned away, not wanting to seem too young or too pleased. "Will you stay until my father is caught?"

"We'll stay until we're sure you're safe," GL answered. He took a picture from one of his hidden pockets and handed it to his partner. "Flash, see if this man is lurking around."

Richie glanced at the picture and wondered how Green Lantern had come upon a picture of his father. Shrugging, he let it go. After all, the man worked with Batman; how could he _not_ have what he needed?

Flash left and they settled themselves in for a long wait. Green Lantern encouraged the board game, and so the four of them sat in the kitchen, rolling dice and studiously not saying what they were all thinking: _When would the danger come?_

Captain Tsakatos sat forward, folding his hands on top of his desk. "You've been waiting to say something," he said to Virgil. "And since you've been patient through all of my questions, tell me what's on your mind before I have another officer come to take statements."

"Richie's dad wrote the messages," Virgil said at once. He was sitting to his pops' left, his hands clenched. "I'm sure of it. He wrote "I'll bring you home soon." Even when Richie was in the hospital, all his father wanted was to take him away. You have to believe that it's Sean Foley who painted the graffiti. You have to."

"Virgil, in America you're innocent until proven guilty."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you don't let suspects run around free, does it? Look, if it's not Foley, I'm a hamster." He shook his head, seeing the amusement in the captain's eyes. "You have to belive me. It was Richie's dad. He needs to be brought in before he can go to Richie's new house. Some idiot put Richie's new address in the paper and now everyone and anyone who wants to know where he is can just look it up!"

"Richie wasn't placed in a witness protection program. There was no need to keep his new address a secret."

Virgil gaped at him. "No need? No need!" He started to stand, but his pops stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Virgil, that's enough," Robert said, low. "You can't change what's already happened. For now, all we can do is make sure that Richie is protected." He turned to the captain as Virgil continued to glare. "Please understand that Richie is like a member of our family. He's very important to us and all we want is reassurance that you will protect him and follow every lead that presents itself."

Sitting back, Captain Tsakatos folded his hands. "You do have that assurance, Mr. Hawkins. Richie Foley will not be hurt again." He took a stack of forms from his desk drawer. "These are statement pages. Each of you needs to fill one out. Then you will be interviewed."

"And what are you going to do about Richie until we're done?" Virgil asked.

The captain's mouth tucked down at the corners. "First, I'm going to call Sean Foley. Then I'm going to make sure Richie and his foster parents are provided for. Is that satisfactory?"

_No. _Virgil sighed, aware that he was most likely embarrassing his father. "Yes. Thank you."

Nodding, the captain stood. "I'll return shortly. Stay here until someone comes for you." He strode from the room, closing the door behind him.

"Why do I feel like we're not going to get any help here?" Virgil muttered.

"Virgil, stop it," Robert said as he took three pens from the desk. "They're helping us, aren't they?" Then he remembered what he had asked his son to do. "Did you get in touch with Richie?"

"Yeah. There isn't much they can do though, is there?" Virgil scrawled his name on the top of his statement sheet. "I mean, it isn't like John keeps a gun in the house just in case of attack by a racist, psychotic-"

"_Virgil."_

Virgil took in a breath, then let it out slowly. "Richie sounded nervous, but said they'd stay away from any windows that could shatter. And of course they locked all the doors."

Robert reached out and put his hand on Virgil's shoulder. "Then everything that can be done is being done. Fill out your form. If nothing else, it will help to pass the time."

"All men of God are hunted. If you aren't hunted, you aren't doing enough in His service."

Sean read the words that had been written inside his Bible. This Bible was different than most, adding some books and taking out others. It was the true Bible. So he had been taught, and because he had faith, Sean Foley believed.

_I am a hunted man._ He smiled. _And blessed to be so. If I am persecuted for Jesus' sake, I blessed and will have my place in Heaven._

He slipped the Bible into his bag, among the clothes and the money he'd withdrawn from his bank. All of it; his entire savings. And Richie's college fund.

_I won't need all of that to get me out of town, but the treatment facility costs money. I wish Richie's hard-saved money could be spent on college, but teaching his soul is more important than teaching his mind. His mind will pass. His soul will endure for eternity, either in Heaven or Hell. I will not let him go to Hell. I will save my son._

He checked to make sure he had everything with him, from his belt to his holy books to his son's beautiful blueprints of the launch pad he never got to build.

_I'll return it to him. But for now, I must hide. I will pray for guidance when I'm safely away from here. Like Elijah, I will go off by myself to meditate and to hide until I am called. And I _will_ be called, just like that long-ago prophet._

He shouldered his bag and started downstairs, turning off lights and closing doors as he went. _And the time may come when I need a weapon as Moses had his staff. But that time is not now. For now, I retreat, regroup, regain my strength. Then will I return._

It hurt him to think that he wouldn't be able to see Richie for a long time. _But God will hold off on the punishment of all souls for this. Just as he rescued Lot from Sodom he will rescue my Richie from the sinful people around him. _Sean thought of the angels that had come to warn Lot and his family. _The men of the town wanted to rape the angels. But God protected them and rescued Lot and his family. I am Lot, but Richie will not suffer the same fate as Lot's wife. Richie will not look back. Richie will walk at my side, confident and sure and ready to accept a new life. The treatment camp will do that. With God's help, it will do that. And with my help as well._

He climbed into his car. He wouldn't be able to keep this one, of course, but for now it was safe enough, he judged. Double-checking to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything (the can of paint and brushes were in his trunk, more so that they wouldn't be left to be soiled (holy relics they would be someday, if kept away from heathen hands) than because Sean was afraid of being linked to the warnings.

_I'll be linked, but that's as it should be. Did Jesus deny his part in the miracles that occurred? Never! And neither will I._

He turned right out of his driveway and headed south.

Hotstreak had crouched by he bushes that divided Virgil's house from the next one over. He had arrived in time to see Sean Foley climb back into his car and drive off. Then Hotstreak snuck around to the front of the house, pondered the graffiti, thought of how thoroughly pissed Virgil was going to be and wondered if he could scrub it off.

_Oh yeah, Hotshot, that's a great way to end up in jail. There's too much light here to do this without being seen. _He crept back to the bushes and sat, thinking. _Besides, it's just paint. _He snorted. _Yeah, and Ebon just wanted to play hopscotch with Gear. The result will be the same; Virgil will lose it. Maybe not right away, since he'll probably be in front of his family when they come back from Richie's, but he'll lose it eventually._

He stared at the paint, noting the way it shone under the white porch light. _Not like blood at all, no matter what that nutcase was muttering. "Blood to warn and wash away sins" my ass. Blood dries and turns dark. It's like that O.J. Simpson trial- how can you possibly see dried blood on black socks? Feel it like a crust, yes, but you can't see it._

Hotstreak grunted. _If I was a famous person I wouldn't want my trial televised over the entire world. _Granted, he had only been five or six when the trial aired, but that was old enough to understand the thing about the socks. _I only saw that little bit of the trial, and by accident. I was flipping through channels while Aunt Sue was out. When she came how, she told me not to watch such things. "They're no good except for people who don't have their own lives," she told me. And she was right. How long has it been since I've watched T.V.? A long time, but I don't even miss it. What's the point? I've got my own life to live, sucky as it is sometimes. I don't have any time to live someone else's life, too._

That thought brought an image of Richie to his mind. Hotstreak thought back, wondering if he'd ever seen the blonde with bruises. _Well, there's only one time, and I gave it to him. _

He admitted, _That was the same day I realized Virgil could lose it, and that when people lose it they become stronger than you could have ever thought possible. _Unconsciously, he rubbed at the side of his face. Virgil had practically broken his jaw.

/Flashback/

Hotstreak- no, he'd just been plain old, dangerous-as-hell Francis, going through the fourth grade for the second time. He'd been out for a month with a disease his doctors said was common enough but which his aunt said came from negligence on the part of his parents. It started as only a cold, worsened and worsened until he ended up in the hospital.

Again.

That was one of the times his Aunt Sue took him in. And his parents never came for him. _Let her take care of the bills, _they said and _Let her take care of the puke and the medicine and the waking up at night to soothe him._

He came back to school actually glad to be back. He was even more happy when he discovered that they were talking about volcanoes in science and the Revolutionary War in social studies. He was so happy, in fact, that at first he didn't recognize the new student. He finally noticed him during Language Arts.

The kid was sitting next to Virgil, the only black kid in their class. Francis glanced around to see if there were any other seats the new kid could have taken. There were three: one close to a window, too, which was a coveted spot. Another was next to Francis in the back of the room and the third was two rows to Francis's left, in the very corner of the classroom. Still, despite all this prime real estate, the blonde was sitting in the very front of the class next to Virigl.

_Mrs. Kruger probably put him there. Like she moved Virgil to the front of the room to keep him from talking and doodling comics when he was supposed to be paying attention._

He watched the kid work his way through Language Arts. Then it was time for lunch. The whole class poured into the cafeteria. But, Francis noticed, the new kid stuck close to Virgil. And when the two of them sat at a table, they sat alone.

Determined to learn a little about the kid who was hanging out with one of his favorite targets, Francis made it a point to get himself picked to work with the blonde during math. And wanting to hide his true nature from the new kid, Francis actually got to work. It was a little hard, but he was glad to see the blonde was having just as much trouble as he was. _At least he's not a genius. I hate geniuses. _

Halfway through the worksheet, Francis got up his courage to ask, "What's your name?"

The kid blinked and looked up at him through his thick-framed glasses. "Richie Foley. You're Francis, right?"

The redhead stared at him, then looked back at their work. "How d'you know that?"

"Virg told me." Richie pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Wait- we need to go back. Problem three is wrong." He pointed. "Look. We both multiplied it wrong. Four times eight is thirty-two, not thirty-six." He began to erase the mistake and Francis followed suit.

"What else did Virgil say about me?"

Richie shrugged. "Not much. He's just been pointing out people since I got here."

Francis wasn't sure if he was disappointed or glad. "Where'd you move from?"

"Ohio."

That was on the other side of the world as far as Francis was concerned. "Why'd you move here?"

The boy hesitated, biting his lip. "Well," he said finally, "Dad got a job here. So we had to move." He was rewriting the problem. "If four times eight is thirty-two and we add eleven to that-" He started to count on his fingers.

"Don't bother," Francis said. His aunt had taught him a thing or two about math and how to add double digits. "Eleven's really close to ten, right?"

Richie nodded.

Francis saw Mrs. Kruger drifting in their direction and fought his natural desire to cause a disturbance. "Well, just add ten to thirty-two."

"Forty-two," Richie said. Then he grinned. "Then you just add the one." He penciled in his answer. "That's cool. Who taught you?"

"My aunt." Mrs. Kruger was moving away again and Francis relaxed. "So when did you move here?"

"Three weeks ago."

_I hate being out for so long. _Francis turned his attention back to the worksheet. He shot occasional glances at Richie, but the boy seemed totally absorbed.

As soon as the work period was over, Richie went back to Virgil's side. Francis saw Virgil glance at him, then whisper something to Richie. Both of them laughed.

Francis scowled and slumped down in his seat, staring at the ceiling. _I talked to you and I didn't beat you up! _he thought at the blonde. _Who do you think you are laughing at me?_

When the last bell rang, Francis dashed outside and waited for Richie just outside the fence. He'd heard the kid say he would walk home with Virgil and he was determined to be there to give the blonde what was coming to him.

Richie came out of the school alone and wandered towards the fence. His bag was slung over his shoulder and he seemed to be looking up at the sky.

Francis leapt out from behind the fence and dragged Richie behind it so they couldn't be seen by the teacher on duty. "You think it's funny to laugh at me?" he snarled, putting his face very close to Richie's.

Instead of the fear he expected, Richie looked confused. "I didn't laugh at you," he said.

Francis punched him in the stomach. "I saw you and Virgil during math."

Richie was gasping for air, but strangely no tears were in his eyes. "We weren't laughing at you!" he exclaimed. "V just asked me if Green Lantern had ever flunked math."

"He looked at me," Francis retorted. "Then you both laughed." He hit Richie again, unnerved by the fact that the blonde wasn't crying.

Richie tried to wriggle lose. "I didn't see that, but we weren't laughing at you!"

Francis hit him again for lying. "I guess Virgil didn't tell you enough about me. Everybody around here does what I say. Got it?" He slammed Richie against the fence.

Richie's eyes were beginning to tear up at last. Francis saw this, relished it, and hit the kid again, this time in the face. Richie's glasses went flying.

"Francis, don't-" Richie was still trying to get away from him.

_You're not going anywhere until I say it's okay,_ Francis thought, grinning unpleasantly at the kid, though not without a trace of enjoyment. He raised his hand to punch Richie again.

Only to have someone slam into him from his right, knocking the wind out of him and making him let go of Richie. Francis fell sideways with a degrading "ooaff!"

But his attacker didn't stop there. He shoved the disoriented Francis onto his back and started punching him in the face, his fist falling so fast and so hard that Francis couldn't at first tell who was hitting him.

"Stay away from Richie!" Virgil's childish treble screamed. "Stay away from him! If you hit him again I'll… I'll make you sorry!"

Not the best threat in the world, certainly, and Francis would have laughed if Virgil hadn't been so furious.

"Say you're sorry!" Virgil ranted on. "Say you're sorry! And say you'll never hurt him again!"

"Virg, stop!"

And just like that, the weight was off Francis's chest. He rolled away at once and got to his feet. Richie was sprawled half on top of a winded Virgil, now just turning his head to squint up at Francis. And now there was fear in his face, yes there was. But it was a sane fear, a controlled fear, if you could get your head around that.

Francis grabbed the blonde and swore that he would make the kid scared for real. He meant to throw Richie against the fence and start beating on him again, but suddenly his lover body exploded in pain and he dropped Richie as he fell to his knees, holding on to his crotch.

Virgil was standing above him, one hand on Richie's shoulder, as if holding him back, the other one raised in a fist. "I told you-"

"Mr. Hawkins!"

/End Flashback/

Hotstreak grinned. Yeah, they'd all ended up in the principal's office for that little tussle. And, unlike what happened in a lot of movies, they didn't become friends. The gap between them widened and Francis had to watch the friendship between Richie and Virgil deepen and the chasm between himself and the pair widen until no bridge could span it. Right now it was probably the widest it had ever been, with Virgil and Richie in love and teamed up against him.

_Except now maybe we don't need a bridge. Maybe we just need, I don't know, a flight plan or something._

He was startled out of his thoughts when the Hawkins' car drove up. Hotstreak watched Virgil's father get out and examine the damage. As he got back in, Hotstreak felt someone's eyes on him and looked up in time to see Virgil staring very hard at the place he was crouching.

_Shit._ Francis crawled backwards, making it around the side of the house before the headlights hit his evacuated hiding place. Knowing he probably wasn't safe there, either, Francis took to his heels.

_Why was I at his house, anyway?_

He scowled, hating that he couldn't answer the question.

Richie sat beside Green Lantern on the desk chair in the blonde's room while Bernadette and John played a card game called Hand and Foot with Flash in the kitchen. Richie couldn't imagine how the super-speed hero was managing to keep still, and he admired the older hero for it. _As for me, I'm just too tired to be antsy or nervous._ Flash had returned almost an hour ago with the news that Sean Foley was nowhere to be found. But Green Lantern said they wouldn't leave until everything was secure. How long that would take Richie had no idea.

"It's always dangerous living with civilians," Green Lantern said. "Once you and Static join the League, you can live on the Watchtower. Or just live by yourselves here on Earth."

Richie shook his head. "I always thought being able to tell someone about my secret life would be good. I feel so close to John and Bernadette because they know my secret and because they aren't trying to stop me." He felt Backpack move closer to him and he touched the robot, seeking comfort.

"It's hard for superheroes to have normal lives," Green Lantern told him. "That's why we're our own family. As time goes on, you'll find it much easier to be close to Virgil than to your foster parents. They just don't' think the way we do. And we can't expect them to."

"I don't really want them to," Richie said softly. "I want them to love me like they do now and not start thinking like… Well, like I have to think. About the risks, calculated and otherwise."

Green Lantern nodded. "And that's as it should be. You were given these powers and they weren't. It falls on your shoulders to defend people and on their shoulders to love you as their son. Each of us has a job to do, whether it's on the sidelines or right out where everyone can see us." He unbent enough to smile. "As you've read in a hundred comics, ordinary people are everyday heroes. You just don't hear about them because very few people want to read 'and they lived happily ever after.' What most people want to read- why newspapers sell- are the dangerous, frightening, deadly things that live in the world among the parents loving their children and the churches helping the poor."

He shifted slightly, glanced at Backpack, who had moved on to Richie's lap, and then back at Richie himself. "Don't forget all the good things that happen even they aren't talked about."

Richie blushed. "I won't forget."

Green Lantern found himself smiling again and thought, _Only Flash has been able to do this to me. This kid... I'm glad Virgil saved him from Brainiac. The world needs more people like this._

"You're talkinag bout Virgil," he said out loud and watched Richie's blush deepen.

"Yeah, I guess I am."

Backpack stirred and touched Richie's cheek. Green Lantern watched as Richie turned his eyes to his creation and held a silent, brief conversation. Richie's expression changed, touching first on surprise before moving on to fear. When he frowned and his jaw tightened, Green Lantern realized the boy probably wasn't going to share any of the details of his conversation with him.

Richie shook his head at the robot, then looked at Green Lantern. His reassuring smile wasn't the least convincing. He seemed to realize this and looked across the room at the bookshelf placed there. "How long will you stay here?" he asked, eyes trained on the books across the way. Green Lantern saw the sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Until Batman takes your father to the authorities or decides that the man has left the area and won't return soon." He glanced at Backpack. Was the robot asking for something? Gren Lantern didn't consider himself a good reader of machine-emotions, but he thought the answer was probably yes. "And I might just stay a little longer if there are other things that need to resolved here." _There, kid; take the opening. It's the best I can do. I'm not a natural psychologist. Even Batman's better than I am._

Richie swallowed. "It's nothing that I can explain," he said. "And it's not like I should still be having problems. It's been months since Brainiac." He repositioned himself so he was sitting cross-legged on the bed. With one hand resting on Backpack, he said, "Besides, you're not here to help me figure out my problems. I'm supposed to go see a shrink for that kind of thing." He snorted. "I'll bet Dr. Rhodes has never heard anything like this before. He'd have me in the nuthouse in a week." He laughed hollowly. "Just like Mom. Maybe we'd even get rooms on the same Ward."

Then he shook his head so violently his glasses almost fell off. "This is self-indulgent nonsense and I know it. I would never leave Virg. Which means I would never go talk to any shrink. I have to stay here. And why should talking about this help anyway? I'm a superhero; this kind of crap comes with the costume."

"Not everything you suffered was as a superhero," Green Lantern noted.

Richie smiled. "Yeah, but it's still me under the mask. Not like before, when I was a different person with my helmet on." He raised an eyebrow. "Did Batman tell you about my split personality?"

"He did, saying that you were healed and as long as you didn't try to split yourself apart again you should be fine."

"I've been fighting as Gear for four months or so. I should have developed the thick skin Virg has against everything that comes his way."

"Hmmm," Green Lantern answered, "I don't think he developed the 'skin' you're talking about until well into his second year. And his skin isn't impenetrable. When Brainiac took you, Virgil was angry enough to shout at myself and the rest of the Justice League members who came to Earth. If his skin really existed, don't you think he would have been able to control his feelings a little more?"

Richie shook his head. "I have to be in control of myself. I can't let go. If I do, I'm betraying V."

"No one is perfect, Richie, as much as I think you don't believe that."

"I have to be," Richie answered. "I almost got Virgil killed because I couldn't fight Brainiac. Hell, the world was almost digitized because of my failure to simply fight." He met Green Lantern's eyes and his own icy blue orbs were narrowed with concentration. "I have this need to do things on my own, but I can't really fight alone. I learned that when we split up last month. I insisted we split up, even though V was having terrible premonitions. I let my emotions control me then and I was captured and raped as a result. Face it. The only time I can use my emotions are when I'm out of costume, and even then I can only let out my love for Virg, BP and my foster parents and the occasional flare of annoyance when Virg and I disagree about something."

_Do you know how crazy you sound? _Green Lantern didn't say those words; they would likely push Richie so far away that no one could follow. Instead, he said, "If Batman can make mistakes and J'onn can make mistakes and I can make mistakes, my can't you? If we can show our emotions, why can't you?"

"Batman doesn't…" But Richie stopped. He knew better; Green Lantern saw the knowledge in his eyes.

"Even Brainiac showed what served him as emotions. Batman said he'd never heard the computer gloat until he had captured Batman and Static. You can probably tell me more about Brainiac's emotions than I've ever seen. Was he angry sometimes? And I don't mean just 'frustrated because of slow-working connections' or the like. I mean completely consumed by rage."

In spite of himself, Richie grinned. "When I escaped his first nightmare he was furious. He was hiding it, but he was angry, all right." He looked down at Backpack and Green Lantern sensed another silent conversation taking place. At last, Richie looked up. "If you're sure you have the time…"

"Knowing Batman, he will be quite thorough in his investigation."

Richie nodded and glanced at Backpack again before speaking. "BP is going to show you oen of my dreams. My worst one. Since I don't remember much about it, if anything, BP thinks it might be a night terror." He was blushing, but he pushed on. "Are you ready?"

"Will your parents be able to hear this?"

Backpack beeped. "BP can make the space around us soundproof." He paused, then said, "Here we go."

Backpack turned his sensor-eye to the middle of the room and the holographic, three dimensional movie began to play.

Richie sat completely still, his face betraying nothing as the images moved and changed before them. Any embarrassment or nervousness he would have felt was overshadowed by the possibility that he wouldn't dream something like this again. If Green Lantern could help him, that was. He prayed for that help.

He watched Slipstream die at his dream-hand seven times. He died from the combination of electricity and water six of those seven times but the last time when he came back and again leapt at Virgil, Richie threw himself at the Bang Baby and strangled him with his own hands, screaming that the bastard wouldn't hurt Virgil, would never hurt Virgil.

And when Slipstream at last lay still, the nightmare was over. Backpack turned his eye to Richie and waited to see what the teen would do.

Green Lantern, too, was looking at Richie, but more thoughtfully than as if he expected Richie to offer him any answers. At length, he said, "I'm glad you're dreaming these things now. It means you aren't repressing them." He smiled at Richie's amazement and went on. "I'm not saying night terrors are healthy, but at least now I know what you truly fear." He broke his normal stoicism- already strained by those smiles- and touched Richie's hand where it rested atop Backpack. "I will help you work through these feelings. There are purging techniques I used when I joined the League. Batman used some of them as well. Maybe I can get you in touch with Nightwing and Robin of the Teen Titans. They both know all about anger and how to work through it." Seeing the hesitation in Richie's eyes, he invited, "Speak your mind."

Richie plunged in at once. "I don't have time to go and see them."

"They'll contact you over the web."

"I don't want to distract them from their jobs."

"They're already talking amongst themselves- it's a weekly counseling thing the League requires. Others who are struggling with anger are required to participate on a regular basis." He leaned forward. "Actually, we may have to speak to Virgil soon. I'm only talking to you first because you came forward."

"I don't want to show them how I feel."

"Why?"

Richie flushed. "Because… Because I don't want to be seen as weak."

"If you admit your weakness, you are stronger because others will help you to work through it. Anger can be an enemy, Richie, but it can also be your friend. If you can learn to channel it, to use it as the adrenaline boost it is, it can serve you instead of being your master."

These last words seemed to get through to Richie. "You really believe that, don't you?"

"Why shouldn't I? I've used my anger as a weapon longer than you've been alive. Why shouldn't I believe what works?"

Richie smiled tentatively. "So they'll help me? I don't want to end up like… Like my dad." He looked at the floor. "His anger makes him very strong."

"Have you ever seen Star Wars?"

Richie's head snapped up and he gaped at the Lantern. "Yeah, but…"

"But you didn't think I had?" Green Lantern sighed in a long-suffering way. "Flash has dragged me to all of the movies. In the second movie, the clone one, Wobi-an tells Anerkin-"

Richie laughed so hard tears streamed down his cheeks. "Obi-Wan and Anakin," he said, snickering.

Green Lantern ignored him. "He says to his apprentice that he must not let emotions cloud his connection to the Force or something like that." Richie could tell Green Lantern was starting to regret bringing up a topic he didn't fully understand. But the man was trying to make a point, so Richie kept silent. "Don't let your anger get in the way of your duty to Dakota and to Virgil. That's all I'm trying to say." He stood. "Come on, let's go play some cards."

Richie grinned, seeing how flustered the famous hero was. "You'll send me the web address?"

"Nightwing will contact you." Green Lantern strode to the door and left the rom.

Alone with Backpack for a moment, Richie said, "You were right. I'm glad I told him. Thank you, BP. I'm sorry I got mad at you."

"I am only glad my guess worked," Backpack answered. "I thought perhaps it would hurt you even more."

Richie lifted the robot so he could ride on his creator's shoulders. "Let's go beat Virg at cards."

"He seems to have left town," the captain repeated for the third time.

Still, Virgil glared at him. "And so you aren't going to go after him? What it he's looking for Richie?"

"We've already spoken with Mr. Corbett regarding his foster son," Captain Tsakatos said again. "There isn't much more we can do except contact other towns in the area and have their police on the lookout for Mr. Foley. But as I've said, his disappearance isn't evidence that he wrote graffiti on your house. We've already dusted for fingerprints and came up negative."

He turned to Robert, seeing that Virgil was determined to be completely uncooperative. The man's daughter hadn't so much as spoken. The captain found that he was wondering what she was thinking. So instead of speaking to her father, he said, "Miss Hawkins, may I ask what you make of all this?"

She was on her fifth or sixth cup of coffee. Setting it down, she closed her eyes. "I'm scared." She sounded anything but, her voice calm and her face unmarked by strain. Perhaps it was a product of the coffee. "Our mom was killed by gang violence, so we're no strangers to pain, Captain Tsakatos." She leaned forward and opened her eyes.

The captain saw at once that he had been wrong to think she was calm. The sorrow and worry was evident in her eyes and now her tone hardened.

"Richie is my brother. He's Virgil's boyfriend. And he's our Dad's son. He's in danger. Like Mom was, except she was a grown woman who went out every day to fight for the innocent. Richie's just a skinny sixteen-year old boy who's been hurt his whole life." She reached out and touched the man's hand across the desk, making sure she had his undivided attention. "When I was younger, before Mom died, I saw her holding Richie on her lap. I got really jealous and wanted to know why she was holding somebody else's kid. She said…" Sharon's eyes were distant now. " 'He may be someone else's child, but he's my baby, too, honey. He doesn't have a mommy to love and take care of him. He needs me.' I asked her why she didn't take him away from his parents, then, and adopt him. 'I can't, Sharon. No one will believe that Richie's being neglected. So I have to do the best I can for him while he's here.' And so that's what we want to do, sir." Sharon bore down on the man's hand. "We want to help Richie because he has no one else. His foster parents are nice, but they aren't _us_. _We_ love Richie. _We_ have always been there for him. And _we_ want to protect him. Please help us take care of him. Don't let his father hurt him again. Please."

"Miss Hawkins-" The captain made as if to withdraw his hand, but Sharon wasn't done yet.

"Let Richie come live with us. I know we aren't a certified foster home, but we're the best thing for Richie. He needs to go to the school he always has. He needs the support of his other friends. He needs to feel safe in a house that he practically grew up in. And, if nothing else, Sean Foley, if he really wants to hurt Richie, won't be able to find him."

"I mean no offense, Miss Hawkins, but isn't your house the first place he would look?"

"It's the second. He'll look to the address that was published in the newspaper. And even if he comes to our house, my boyfriend, Adam Evans, is Rubberband Man and will protect him. And if Richie lives with us, he'll walk home from school every day with Virgil. Isn't that safer then sending him to a school where nobody knows him and so nobody will be looking out for him? And," she added as the captain stopped trying to pull his hand away, "Static and Gear will have an easier time keeping an eye on him if he's in Dakota. And you know they've taken an interest in him. Maybe one of them has dealt with abuse before. For whatever reason, they patrol Dakota, not the suburbs, so they'll have an easier time spotting trouble for Richie. And we would all feel a lot better if we knew that Richie was protected by my dad, me, Virgil, the kids and teachers at school and the Community Center as well as by three superheroes."

At last, she released his hand and sat back. But she didn't lower her eyes, keeping him looking at her. "Please help me take care of my little brother. We don't want to lose another family member."

Everyone sat in silence for a moment. Virgil wanted to stare at his sister, but kept his eyes trained forward. Let the captain know they were all united, that they all thought as she did. _But…. Damn! Where did that come from? Maybe I should take whatever public speaking class she did when I get into college!_

Robert reached out and put his hand on his daughter's folded ones. He, too, was looking at Captain Tsakatos.

At last, looking slightly shaken (his eyes moved from face to face like a skater moves over ice) the man cleared his throat. "Well, Miss Hawkins… I must admit I didn't realize how much Richard Foley meant to all of you." He shifted in his chair, then stood. "Let me talk to a few people." He raised a warning finger. "This doesn't mean you're going to get what you asked for, but I'll put the suggestion out there." Without another word (and without looking directly at Sharon, whom he seemed to be avoiding) Captain Tsakatos left the room.

Again, silence reigned, broken this time by Virgil. "Wow," he whispered, turning to his sister. "Don't let this go to your head, but that was cool." He grinned at her.

She smiled, but looked away. Reaching out, she picked up her coffee cup. Her hands were back to being unsteady.

"Honey, I'm so proud," her father said. "And your mother would have been, too. I know it." He squeezed her left hand as she raised the cup to her lips.

"So… You really like Richie hanging around, huh?" Virgil asked.

Sharon shot him a sideways glance. "Don't push it."

Batman frowned. "I'll find him. I swear it." He was crouching on top of a house across from Richie's own, his eyes dark and narrowed with determination. There had only been a handful of criminals in his entire career that he couldn't find or defeat. Each of those stood out clearly in his mind. Sean Foley, a mere man with nothing to help him except his own doubtful wit and resource, would not be one of those.

"But what will you do with him?" J'onn asked. "He will not be held in a jail cell here, and he is too sane for Arkem."

"Any man that wants to hurt his son is insane."

The Martian shook his head. "Think of this from his perspective, Batman. He believes that he is doing the best thing for Richie. He truly and deeply believes everything that was taught to him at the meetings he attended. He knows that Hell is a real place, knows it in his innermost heart, and hates the thought of losing Richie to that terrible place. He doesn't want his son to be seperated form God for an eternity."

"How do you know so much about Christianity?" Batman asked, for the first time looking away form the house to stare at the alien beside him.

"When I came to Earth, I needed a way to understand it. So I began researching what its people believe in, and what they once believed in. Because even if you don't still believe something, it can have a bearing on how you conduct your life." He added, "Also, when you told me of Richie's newfound faith, I went back and studied Christianity again. It seemed paradoxical in the extreme that Richie would become a member of a religion that had given birth to The Crusades and many other wars, not to mention the Ku Klux Kluan. I needed to know if there was something I was missing, something that split Christianity into two halves, a light half and a dark half."

"Did you?"

J'onn shook his head. "No. In this religion, there is the chance for both. And there is always that chance. You can always switch to the other side of things." He shook his head again, this time in puzzlement. "It's a dangerous thing to believe in something that can be both good and evil. I wonder if Richie knows that."

Batman gazed at the empty house. "He knows."

J'onn tilted his head slightly. "You're so sure. Why?"

At first, it didn't seem as if Batman would answer. He was glowering at the house as if imagining that it was Sean Foley. But slowly, his face eased. "Because I know Richie. He has weighed both the benefit and the danger. I'm sure of that. And he's decided that the potential good outweighs the bad. Besides, he already has built in a safety."

"What do you mean?"

"Richie has vowed that he will not turn to the evil side of anything, including his religion, because he loves Virgil."

"Is his love strong enough, do you think?"

Batman grunted. "It's one of the few things I believe in." He stood. "Come on. We're not accomplishing anything here." He turned away and stalked to the edge of the roof. Glancing over his shoulder, he said one more thing before leaping into the air/ "Of course, I've been wrong before."

Backpack's Personal Log

Personal Log

Date: 7-30-05

Subject: Sean Foley

He hasn't been found yet, but Batman has sworn to do so. For now, it is only myself, Richie, Bernadette and John in the house. Tomorrow, Virgil and the rest of his family will visit. Today, they were scrubbing off the paint. Richie volunteered to come over and help, but Robert said he should stay put until they were about his father. Richie's seventeenth year of life isn't starting out very cheerfully.

I find it strangely comforting to write down my thoughts this way. Even if they are only in my 'head,' and I could always access them, there is a totally to this concrete truth-telling that I find relaxing.

**A/N: ** Hey everybody: Tenshi no Mugen drew pictures to go with this story. If you want ot see them, email me! Macfal1219 Well, if there's a time for Sean Foley to rot in jail, it's not quite yet. But I'm with you: let's hope something very unpleasant happens to him.

**Tenshi no Mugen:** Thank you again for the pics and for the review.

Tristripe: Well, more show-timeline stuff for you, my dear, though not until the next chapter (which I also posted, just in case everybody didn't see that. I don't want you guys to think I'm stiffing you.) And, yup, Richie definitely needs therapy. Now let's see if it helps.

**leev:** Hotstreak is so cute I can't stay mad at him- but sometimes I just want to smack him upside the head.

**MsManga:** Sorry this update took so long. Hope it's worth it. Anyway, I love Bernadette and John. I had no idea they were going to become so important.

**Moonjava: **Okay, as promised- Friday it is. Though late Friday. BLUSH Anyway, two chapters up. Have fun.


	12. BP Log V Diary Online Chat

**A/N:** I'll be back in two weeks, which means the next chapter should be put up in the early to middle part of July. I'm sorry for the long wait. Take care!

Book III

Backpack's Personal Log (5)

Backpack's Personal Log (6)

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (5)

Chapter Three: On-line Chat

Backpack's Personal Log

Personal Log

Date: 8-1-05

Subject: Sean Foley and on-line chat

Batman hasn't been able to find anything yet. I find it interesting that both Richie and Virgil become calmer as time passes. Perhaps that is because humans cannot keep their fear. It must be physically exhausting. Virgil has stopped being angry, at least for now, and Richie is smiling again.

He has started talking with Nightwing and the others, giving me permission to 'listen' to the conversations. I do not trust any of the people Richie is talking to- they have to earn that trust- but I think I like them as I might like an acquaintance. I do not know they well, but so far they are proving to be likeable. In time, they may prove themselves to be Richie's real friends.

As a side note, the KKK in Dakota seems to have gone underground. I have been checking their websites, investigating them, seeing if maybe they were hiding Sean. All of their websites have been discontinued and they have abandoned their meeting hall. Strange. Perhaps Static's and Gear's attention frightened them. I know not.

Backpack's Personal Log

Personal Log

Date: 8-9-03

Subject: A possibility of moving

Richie keeps saying, "I can't move. Not now. I love them. But I love V. I want to move. But I can't." This litany turns back on itself again and again. And, besides Richie, only I hear it, for Richie doesn't want anyone to know he's debating it. The hearing in front of the Children Protection Services board is tomorrow and still Richie cannot decide.

I wish there was a way for him to live in both places. There may be, if the board would agree to let Richie spend some weekends with his foster parents, but that is unlikely. Then again, Richie doesn't need to ask their permission. But no matter what he chooses, he cannot split his time right down the middle, especially once school starts.

Richie's worry is getting to me. I sound a lot like him right now, nervous and tense and with many racing thoughts.

We tried praying, but if God sent an answer, Richie hasn't been able to hear it. I am still not sure I believe in this 'God,' but Richie believes, answer or no answer, and I accept his belief. I wish I could figure out to contact this 'God' and get a few answers. What sort of omnipotent, omniscient being says he will be there for his creations and then doesn't answer? Richie tells me God gave us the Bible so we can learn what he would do. But in a case like this, there isn't much that the Bible says. Richie found one passage, but he isn't sure if it applies to he and Virgil: "For so shall a man leave his family and cleave to his wife." But Richie doesn't know if God even approves of him loving Virgil. Not that he would ever stop loving Virgil, or at least I don't believe that is true. But Richie says that he doesn't think that passage applies to him because he isn't married to Virgil. And Bernadette and John aren't his blood-family, though I personally think that blood doesn't have anything to do with it.

I am worried about Richie. What will he choose, and can he be happy with that choice? I also feel lucky, because I would never have such a choice. I don't love anyone except Richie. But to be human, or at least part of being human, is loving a lot of different people. Not all humans are like that, but I think the majority are.

Richie is coming. I must see what he is thinking now.

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins/Static Shock

Dear Diary,August 9, 2003

None of us meant for this to be hard on Richie. But he's closer to Bernadette and John than any of us thought possible. He's having trouble deciding who he wants to live with. He has to make a decision by tomorrow and be prepared to plead it in court.

I'm sick of court rooms.

It shouldn't hurt that he's having trouble choosing who to live with. Except it does. Call me a selfish bastard. I already know what I am. But calling myself a name doesn't change the fact that I want Richie right here, under this roof, where I can see him each morning when I wake up and make sure he's the last person I see before I go to bed at night. I mean, Sharon's even agreed to help clean out the guest room. Doesn't Richie appreciate that? (Okay, not fair; Richie doesn't know she promised.) Still….

I know I'm selfish. But all that aside, living here would just be the best thing for Richie. He would so much safer. And he would have me to help him with anything he needs and he wouldn't have to go to a new school and he wouldn't have to fly ten minutes just to get to the gas station. And he would be with people he'd grown up around and he would be able to see me every night. Isn't giving up his foster parents- people he hasn't lived with all that long- worth all that? And if not, isn't living with me worth it?

I'm being unfair. Richie isn't my prisoner. But Pops is right: I want to live under one roof with Richie, a feeling that has nothing to do with wanting to protect him. I just want to be in the same house with him and know that we both live there and that I'll always be able to walk across the hall and see him sleeping if I want.

And we're back to my wants again. I didn't think I was this selfish. Maybe I really should try that on-line chat thing Flash suggested. I don' really have a problem with anger (yeah, and the Moon is made of Burger-Fool cheese). Okay, fine, I need the help. If nothing else, it will pass the time until I'm tired enough to go to sleep.

Chapter Three: On-line Chat

Virgil had to decide on a screen name. He stared at the blinking cursor on the screen for a full ten minutes as he tried to figure out what he wanted to be known as. _Shockmaster? Maybe. Electrolad? Definitely not. Lightningmaker? No; too long._ He grinned, thinking of something Richie had said once. _HVH for High Voltage Hero! _Then he shook his head. _If Richie's on, I don't want him to know it's me immediately. _His grin widened. _I'd like to surprise him. So I guess that means I should stay away from the electricity-related screen names. How about KKKbeater? Ditto; Richie would know. Besides, I don't want to get any arguments started. And I'm going on this thing for a little help with anger, right? My screen name shouldn't be so hate-oriented then._

Irgil rested his chin his hand. _BPbuddy? _He slapped his forehead. _Why can't I think of something Richie won't recognize? Daisychain? Uh… no. Just… no. How about Hawkin…. No, wait! Hawk16! It's perfect! _Virgil typed his screen name into the box, then chose an easy password: myrichie. Moments later, he was logged into the chat room.

Three others were logged on already. Virgil watched them talk for a moment, reading idle chitchat, it seemed like. Then he took in a breath and typed:

Hawk16: Hi. Is this the anger-management seminar?

Knight: Yes. You are….?

Hawk16: GL asked me to join.

Knight: I'm tracking your location. We don't want anyone on here that we can't trust. So I'll know who you are in a minute, anyway. I'm Nightwing.

Redbird: I'm Robin.

DrH: I'm Gear. Static, is that you?

Virgil blushed, hesitated, then typed:

Hawk16: Yeah. Hi, Gear.

DrH: Welcome to the Society for the Betterment of Superheroes with Anger Issues.

Hawk16: So, what were you guys talking about?

Knight: Just killing time, actually, until Blackbird gets here.

Virgil grinned.

Hawk16: She your sister, Robin?

Rebird: Raven and I chose our names individually.

DrH: And they're both too stubborn to back down. One day, too many people will ask if they've been dating and one of them will _have_ to change.

Redbird: Luckily, no one's done that yet, **_GEAR._**

DrH: Don't shoot me. I'm a civilian right now.

Redbird: So, can I shoot you when you're in costume?

DrH: Unless I shoot you first.

Blackbird: I'm outnumbered, aren't I?

Redbird: Hey, Raven.

Knight: You're not outnumbered. There are two Teen Titans versus the rest of us.

DrH: Two Teen Titnas facing Dakota's funky fresh hero and his good-looking partner. You're the one who's outnumbered, Nightwing.

Knight: Good thing Robin and I have common anger issues.

Hawk16: So, how do we start?

Knight: Well, Static, since you're new, just watch for a little bit. You'll get the hang of it.

oOo

"I'm in!" Tech exclaimed, drawing Hotstreak's attention.

The annoying member of the Night Bree made Hotstreak's blood boil every time he spoke, but his ability to hack was unmatched. He'd been on the Internet for hours, looking for Static and Gear information. At last, he had stumbled on a live chat forum run by and for superheroes. It had only taken him ten minutes to break into the system, extract a name of someone who was trying to log on, block her service and transfer her screen name to his computer.

Sitting back with a satisfied smile on his face, Tech said, "Your name is Blackbird. You're Raven, from the Teen Titans. If you don't type too much, you should be able to stay relatively safe. They're operating on the assumption that you _are_ Raven. Just don't prove them wrong."

Hotstreak scowled. "Get out of my way."

Tech snickered, not bothered at all. "See if I help you again." He left quickly, though, when flames blazed in Hotstreak's eyes.

He turned back to the computer screen and read over the last twenty or so lines of the conversation. Then he decided to make his appearance. The little he knew about Raven was that she was closed-lipped and prone to making wisecracks.

Blackbird: I'm outnumbered, aren't I?

It was obvious from the way the others responded that Hotstreak was accepted at once. Grinning, he read each line. He had always enjoyed playing spy games as a child- not that he'd had much time to play them- and this felt no different. Except now he was eavesdropping on real people- on Virgil and Richie, nonetheless. His grin widened until he looked almost rabid. His eyes flashed as he read each new line and tried to picture what each superhero might be doing at that moment. Where was Richie? Probably in his room at the Corbett's. And Virgil was probably home, but he might not be if Sean Foley was still out there somewhere. The Hawkins' house might not be exactly safe.

He was highly amused by all the talk of "anger." _Hey, they should just let it out like I do, then they wouldn't have any issues. Except with the police, but they're easy to avoid. _He laughed. _'Course, if they just let it all hang out, they wouldn't be superheroes, would they? I guess there's one way superheroes and the rest of us are alike: we all get pissed off. We just handle it differently, that's all._

Ten minutes after logging on, Hotstreak was laughing hysterically and trying desperately to stay in his chair. Nightwing and Robin were going at it about the Batman, having a regular diss-fest. _If Bats could see what they're saying, man the feathers would fly!_

In what seemed to Hotstreak like the middle of the birdbrains' rant, Nightwing typed:

Knight: OK. That's it for us. Who's up? Gear?

DrH: Can I skip tonight? The night terrors have let up and-

Redbird: And are you still angry?

DrH: More worried about the court hearing tomorrow.

Hawk16: Have you decided what you want to do?

DrH: NO! Quit asking me!

Hawk16: Rich, I didn't mean

Drh: I'm not ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready. I'm just about ready to flip a coin and go with that.

Knight: Hey, it worked for Two-Face.

DrH: Not funny.

Redbird: Seriously, sometimes all you can do is choose one thing and hope for the best. Batman hates that choice, too, but he's had to do it before.

Knight: And even though the choice isn't always right, it will at least teach you how to fix the situation, or give you clues at the very least.

Hawk16: You talked about this with them?

Knight: Cool off, Static. If you can't talk to your anger-management buddies, who can you talk to?

_Damn, _Hotstreak thought. _I didn't know Virgil had such jealousy issues. _He typed, unable to help himself:

Blackbird: He needs more than one perspective. Lay off, Static.

DrH: I'm sorry I brought this up. Maybe I should just go and

Knight: No.

Redbird: No.

Hawk16: No.

And, not to be outdone;

Blackbird: No. We're here to work this out.

_I'm good. I should be on Geraldo or Judge Judy or something._

DrH: Okay, never mind. Static knows everything I'm feeling, and so do you guys, so you know why I'm worried. Should I really toss a coin? If I can find one, that is?

Hawk16: You could toss Backpack.

DrH: angry face Not funny, Shock-Jock

Hawk16: Sorry. I'll toss a coin for you if you want.

DrH: Thanks, man. Will you bang me over the head, too?

Hawk16: Why?

DrH: So I can get you for spouse abuse. Why else?

Hawk16: Ouch. Low blow.

DrH: Hey, if I have to sink to my opponent's level…. grin I love you.

Redbird: clears throat I thought we agreed not to use the floating stars. Didn't we all decide they just get in the way and can't even come close to expressing what we're thinking?

Knight: They're called asterisks.

DrH: Hey! You spelled it right!

Knight: An education paid for by Wayne Enterprises does come in handy sometimes.

DrH: You just don't want to look dumb in front of the genius.

Knight: Kiss my tail feathers.

Redbird: GETTING BACK TO THE REASON WE'RE ALL HERE… Maybe you

Hawk16: No SHOUTING on line! Isn't that a rule?

Redbird: should try what you haven't tried. And kiss my ass, Lightbulb Boy.

DrH: You mean live with… well, not with who I'm with now. Maybe… It's a better plan than I can think of. Besides, I could still see my parents… Okay, I'll try it.

Hawk16: Just like that? I've been trying to talk you into it for a week!

Knight: Guess you didn't use the right logic. Robin's good with humans that are half machine.

DrH: Hey, the half-machines may outlast the humans. yawn Okay, I'll done. Oops, sorry about the asterisks, Robin.

Redbird: rolls eyes Sure you are. Anyway, it's either Raven's turn or Static's.

Hawki16 : Uh, Pops is calling me. Guess I better go. Night.

Knight: Night, Static.

Redbird: Good night.

Blackbird: Night.

DrH: I love you.

Hawk16: Love you, too. Go to bed before you have a chance to rethink this.

DrH: Yes, Mom.

Hotstreak read the small sign on his screen: _Hawk16 has signed off._

Redbird: Seriously, Gear, are you really going to take my advice or did you just write that to get Static off your back?

DrH: I'll never lie to V if I can help it. Anyway, I guess we're done here, huh?

Knight: For now. Will you have a computer when you move in with Static?

DrH: BP will help me with that.

Redbird: Something just crashed. Beastboy and Cyborg are at it again. Later.

_Redbird has logged off._

Knight: You sure you're okay?

DrH: I'm getting better. I'm amazed at how well this thing actually works.

Knight: Because you didn't think of it?

DrH: Yeah, that too. I think I'll play on the Internet for a bit before I sleep. Good night, Nightwing.

Knight: Don't let the bat-bugs bite.

_Knight has logged off. _Now was Hotstreak's chance to ask a question that had been chewing at him since he'd seen Richie's screen name.

Blackbird: Hey, Gear?

DrH: Hey Raven. I thought you went to go yell at Beastboy, too.

Blackbird: I'll go in a minute. I wanted to ask, what does your screen name mean?

DrH: Well, I'll probably have a doctorate in something eventually. And the H is for Static's last name. I'm going to drop mine when I'm eighteen and take on his.

_Damn, they've got it bad. _Hotstreak snickered.

Blackbird: Oh. Good night.

DrH: Good night.

_Blackbird has sighed off._

Hotstreak sat back and laughed until he shook the chair. _I'll have to make sure I'm nice to Tech. This is too good to pass up._

Besides, how else could he get this close to Richie and Virgil without either of them knowing it? _I'll talk to them face to face, but not until I'm ready._

_And why aren't you ready now?_

_I am. I just… Oh, fuck off, okay? Damn voices. I'll let them know who they've been talking to when I'm damned good and ready. And that'll be when _they're_ ready to handle _me_. And that could take a while._

oOo

Richie set his suitcase on the floor of the guest room beside the bed. The walls were bare, but Richie knew he would fix that soon enough. For now, it was a relief to be home. He sat on the edge of the bed; it had been made with white sheets and a quilt. Richie traced the stitching that held the squares together and wondered if it was handmade. Smiling a little sadly, he thought, _It could be. There's more of a chance of it being homemade here than at my old house._

Someone was coming up the stairs. Richie stood, moving to the open door. Virgil was carrying a desk lamp. He caught sight of Richie and grinned. Gaining the top step, he cross the hall to the open door and handed Richie the lamp. "I have to go find a light bulb, but here's this part, anyway." He glanced over Richie's shoulder at the room. "I'm sorry we didn't have time to fix it up before you got here."

Richie shook his head and set the lamp on the floor just inside the room. "Virg, I made that happen. I couldn't make up my mind until last night, remember? How were you supposed to have the chance to do anything?" He touched Virgil's shoulder. "V, just knowing I'm welcome here is more than I can ask for." He stepped back as Virgil reached for me. "Not yet. We have other stuff to move, right?" He glanced around the room. The bed and the newly acquired lamp were the only pieces of furniture.

Virgil laughed. "No, man. You're going to live in a cell. It's part of your punishment for taking so long to decide." He headed for the stairs, and Richie followed.

Two hours later, Richie had finished putting his clothes away in the dresser and the closet. He had grown up with the idea of keeping things cleans. To do otherwise would be to invite a beating. On a conscious level, he knew Mr. H would never hurt him. But some habits are hard to ignore. _Besides, I don't want to seem ungrateful for everything I've been given. _

When almost everything else was in its place (he would worry about putting things up on the walls to make them look less bare in the morning) he set a picture of his foster parents- taken by Backpack just before they left- on the nightstand by his bed. Then he knelt by the bed, on the pretext of looking for something, and whispered into the shadows beneath, "You okay, BP?"

_Yes, Richie. All is well._

_I'm sorry your freedom has been restricted again._

_As long as I am near you, I do not mind. We will move our work to the gas station and I will continue to experiment there._

He heard a creak in the hall, then a soft knock at the door. Rising quickly, marveling at the tolerance of a closed door, he grasped the knob and drew the door back, already smiling at whoever happened to be there.

Robert was carrying a picture so that Richie could only see the back. Stepping aside, Richie said, "If there was more, I could have helped. But you said-"

"I wanted this to be a surprise," Robert answered. "And you're not allowed to see it yet. Go downstairs and wait. Sharon and Virgil will be bringing other things up, but don't try to see what they are. Just hang out for a few minutes."

"Okay, Mr. H." _What sort of secret does he want to keep?_

_A pleasant one, it seems, _Backpack answered.

And with that thought, Richie had to be content. He left the room. He met Sharon on the stairs, but she was more discreet than her father. Whatever she was concealing was int eh backpack on her back. She threw Richie a mock scowl and ordered him to stay downstairs, out of the way, before disappearing into his new room.

Virgil was the next one to appear, pushing open the door to the basement and flashing Richie a cheeky grin as he tucked something behind his back. "You're going to like this," he teased before dashing upstairs.

Richie leaned against the couch cushions, listening hard. He heard the pounding of a hammer- the picture Mr. H had brought upstairs was being hung- but nothing else that could give him any clues. Closing his eyes, he decided not to worry about it. What was the point, anyway? They weren't doing anything that would hurt him; the days when he had to listen for his father's key in the front door or his footsteps in the hallway were over. _Now I just have to keep telling myself that, because it isn't natural yet. Maybe being a crime fighter has made my senses ultra-sensitive, made me jumpy, but I don't think so. It was him. He made me this way. Now all I have to do is change that part of myself and I won't have any tie to him._

His mind went to his mother, as it so often did since he had visited her in the hospital for the first time. Her room had smelled of pristine sterileness, if that was even a word. Sitting by the window, she had been playing with a small, blond-haired girl-doll, rocking it, cooing to it, calling it "my little Richie." He'd almost fled the room right then and there, not even daring to approach her.

But Bernadette had laid a hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He had asked his foster parents to stay out in the hallway, and had turned to demand why she had come in. (His fear was making him angry.) But he'd realized that he, too, was in the hall, that he'd backed right out of the room without realizing it. The astonishing lack of control over his own movements strengthened him; he wouldn't let himself slip like that again.

Instead, he'd smiled at his foster mother, then at his foster father, who stood just behind Bernadette, his own hand on her shoulder. Then he walked back into the room and shut the door. As much to keep himself in as to keep them out.

Maggie Foley had looked up, her eyes bright with a lively curiosity Richie didn't like at all. She cradled the doll closer and whispered, "It's your father, Richie. Do you want to see your father?"

Richie had squared his shoulders, went to her and knelt, putting his hands on hers. "Mom? It's Richie. Can you hear me?"

She blinked slowly. "You've grown," she murmured, and for the first time set the doll aside so she could touch his face. "It's true our children grow in an instant." She laughed, a free, untroubled sound he had never heard. It hurt ot listen to her, even though Richie knew he should be grateful that she didn't sound broken anymore. _But she also doesn't sound like my mom anymore._

"Where's your father?"

"At home."

She sighed. "He didn't want to see me, hmm?"

"I didn't invite him."

"Oh, Richie, you're not still fighting with him, are you? Please tell you're both at least still talking."

Richie thought of the trial, how he'd spoken to his father from behind Gear's flace plate. "Yes, we're still talking. It's hard, but we've tried."

She nodded. "I'm glad." She patted his hands, some of her familiar, distracted nature returning. "You were always such a good boy, Richie. You always tried, no matter what that man said. You always tried to do what would make him happy." Then she frowned. "Except for bringing Virgil over for dinner that one time. That was a mistake, dear."

"I know."

She patted his hand again. "But don't worry; it's always been out-of-sight, out-of-mind with your father. I'm sure he's forgotten all about that little fantasy note you wrote." Maggie Foley suddenly met Richie's gaze, and her eyes were narrowed. "It _was_ a fantasy, right? You don't really love that boy, do you?"

What could he have said? "Yes, Mom, it was a fantasy." That might have kept things from happening the way they had. But Richie didn't want to lie to his mother. And she had seemed so lucid, so _there_, in those moments, that he had temporarily forgotten where she was and what she had been talking to when he came in.

"Mom, I love Virgil. We're dating. Someday we might even-"

She slapped him so hard Richie rocked back on his heels and lost his balance. Now half-lying on the floor at her feet, he stared up at her twisted, enraged expression. She watched her scoop up the doll and thought maybe she would just return to it, call it Richie, and forget him.

"You… You…" She was panting now, staring down at him, her gaze pinning him in place like a fly roasted by the sun concentrated by a magnifying glass. "You'll go to Hell. You know that, don't you?" Then she began to weep. "I raised my boy to go to Hell! What have I done?" But she didn't stumble back from him as he'd hoped. Her expression darkening even more, she whispered, "Sean was right. Your that boy's whore. Oh, God, my son is a WHORE!"

Then she kicked him. Only once, and it was a glancing blow as he was finally ablet o roll away, but it landed, nonetheless. And what hurt more than the blow was the fact that his mother, his distracted, yet kind mother, had dealt it.

His superhero training had clicked on like a safety switch. In a moment, Richie was up and backing towards the door, his hands held up protectively in front of him in case she attacked again. His glasses had gone askew; without dropping his defensive posture, he used one hand to straighten them.

She picked up a water glass and hurled it at him, screaming, "Drink the water of life and be purified!"

He ducked; the glass shattered on the wall. One and had dipped to his belt, searching for the Zap Cap that should have been there. _No, it shouldn't be. I'm still Richie, not Gear. And she's my mother, not a Bang Baby. _ Now he could hear Bernadette and John hammering on the door, trying to get to him. _Did I lock the door? Should doors in these rooms lock from the inside? _Then he realized that his back was to the door, keeping them out. But he didn't move away from it. Not just yet. An angry wind buzzed in his ears, drowning out other sounds. _Drink the water of life and be purified… God, no. He's gotten to her! He did this to her! He made her into a fanatic like him God, please tell me it isn't true. I can accept her hating me for loving Virg, but not this. Please don't let her be like him. She's never said one way or the other unless he was standing over her. Why does she have to give in to all of the lies and hatred now?_

His mother took a step towards him, but then sank to her knees. She was clutching the girl-doll in her arms, sobbing against its yarn-hair. "Richie, my Richie…. My baby Richie…"

She had forgotten him again. Shaking, Richie stepped away from the door and opened it. Still watching her for any sudden movements (his instincts wouldn't let go of him quite yet) he inched out of the room and shut the door. Glancing from one foster parent to the other, he laughed suddenly, the unnaturally-high sound hurting his own ears. He stopped abruptly.

"Richie…" John began.

"Wait," Richie answered. He glanced through the door's window and saw that she had regained the chair by the window. There she had resumed her former mood and posture, cradling the doll against her. _Baby Richie, _he thought. But his anger had faded. Now he only felt sad and husked out, unable to do much more than think those words. It was a struggle to stay on his feet, but he made the struggle. He wouldn't let her see him collapse, if she happened to glance towards the door.

"Okay," he said, turning to face his parents. "We can go now." And without waiting to see if they would follow, he strode down the hallway, his mouth set in Gear's no nonsense, don't-talk-to-me expression. And, after a moment, he heard them following.

"Richie?"

The blonde blinked, coming back to the Hawkins' living room. _His_ living room, if such miracles were to be believed. He smiled up at Virgil. "Hey."

"Hey yourself." Virgil sank onto the couch beside him and put an arm around his shoulders. Lowering his voice, Virgil asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just thinking about my mom. You know, my first one."

Virgil nodded and gave him an extra squeeze. "Do you want to talk or do you want to come upstairs and check out what we've done to your room?"

"We can talk later," Richie answered, smiling. He stood, and Virgil followed him up the stairs. Richie walked into his room, expecting the one picture… but not the ten or so that decorated his walls.

The only thing that had all of them in common was that they all had Richie with at least two of the Hawkins'. He saw a picture of the fishing trip he'd taken with Virgil and his pops two years ago. Next to this was another framed photo, this time of Sharon glaring across the table at two very messy ten-year old boys as Virgil and Richie tore into the chocolate cake Mr. H had bought for Richie's tenth birthday party.

But the picture that caught his eye was an enlarged print. Robert Hawkins and Jean sat behind their children. Including their adopted child. Robert had his hands on an adolescent Sharon. Beside him, Jean was hugging the two small boys from behind. _I remember that day. It was the first day I was allowed to come over after being sick for a week. V's moms said she had missed me and she knelt right down and hugged me._

"I think he likes it," whispered Sharon from behind him.

Richie turned, gazing at the three Hawkins'. _I won't cry. I won't cry. I won't cry. _He pushed his glasses up and rubbed at his eyes. "You're… You're the best," he managed at last."

Robert smiled. "You've been a part of our family for so long, Richie; I wouldn't have ti any other way."

Virgil was grinning like a fool. No surprise there.

Sharon shrugged. "Enjoy it, little brother. Tomorrow I'm back to punishing you for all the noise and disaster you throw at me."

Richie laughed. "Does that mean I can pick on your cooking?"

She scowled. "Only if you want to try making dinner."

To her surprise, Richie answered, "Okay."

There was a short silence. Then Robert cleared his throat. "Richie, you aren't expected to fall right into the chore rotation."

"I don't mind cooking, Mr. H. Really. It's fun. I made the cake you guys had at my birthday party. It's sort of…" He blushed. Why were they all staring at him, even Virgil? Virgil knew he could cook. Didn't he? Where else did he think that cake had come from? "It's a hobby of mine," he finished, staring down at the carpet.

Virgil broke the silence. "Well, I'll try Foley's fast food any day over Sharon's Shake-n'-Bake Cuisine."

His sister scowled at him, but Virgil pretended not to notice. "What about you, Pops?"

"I like Sharon's cooking," Robert answered. "But there's no reason she should have to cook every night." He looked at Richie. "And if you agree to cook sometimes, that will excuse you from dishes."

Richie grinned. "Okay." Not that he minded dishes, either. _As long as I don't have to clean the bathrub with my tongue anymore, I'm all set._

oOo

The next night, Robert was drawn into the kitchen by the heavenly smell of something garnished in garlic, onions and a few spices he couldn't identify simmering away happily on the stove. Richie was chopping something on the cutting board (_We have a cutting board? _Robert thought) and keeping an eye on the concoction on the stove. He didn't seem to realize there was someone in the room with him. He was humming a soft, tuneful melody under his breath.

"Richie?" Robert asked tentatively, not wanting to intrude but unable to keep silent.

"Hey, Mr. H." Richie flashed him a smile, then turned back to his chopping.

"Richie… what is all this?"

"Spaghetti sauce. The pasta's already done, but the sauce needed a few extra things." As he spoke, he dumped the stuff off the cutting board into the pot. "It'll be ready in about ten minutes."

"It smells really good," Robert admitted, wandering over to the stove. "What in here?"

"A jar of Ragu sauce and some extra vegetables and spices and stuff." Richie's expression had changed from happy to nervous. "I'm sorry; I should have asked if you wanted spaghetti. It's just…" He looked down at the floor.

_He does that too often, _Robert thought. "Richie, I trust you to cook whatever you think is best."

Richie raised his head, his eyes bright. "Really?"

"Yes, really." _What in the name of all things good in this world did Sean Foley do to this boy?_

"Thanks , Mr. H. That means a lot." Richie turned back to the sauce and began stirring it. He didn't seem to want to talk anymore, and Robert left him to it.

Dinner that night was an almost silent affair as everyone decided to put off talking in favor of putting away as much of Richie's spaghetti as possible.

oOo

As he did every night (and sometimes during the day if he was bored enough to start pacing) Hotstreak slipped into the chat room Tech had discovered. After talking it over, the two of them decided it was too dangerous for Hotstreak to pretend to be someone. It would be better if he spied without being noticed. The venture was a little more risky, but it would allow Hotstreak to relax a little. Who knew pretending to be a superhero you had never met would be so difficult?

He scanned the top of the page before noticing that two people were logged on: Knight and DrH. _Some action at last! _It had been a rather dull two weeks.

Unless you took into account the new Bang Baby in town, and the fact that Hotstreak had gotten to rub elbows with Lil' Romeo. _Yeah, and the kid dissed me. _

But he was too happy to see that there would be real conversation today.

Date: August 30, 2003

Webchat #: 164

DrH: Hi, Nightwing. Long time no see

Knight: It's been a long couple of weeks. Every criminal was on vacation in the beginning of August and they all decided to come back at once. What have you been up to?

DrH: Dakota's been quiet as a tomb. Ebon and most of his Meta Breed are still in jail and Hotstreak and Talon have disappeared off the face of the earth. Static and I have had to start working out just to keep in shape.

Knight: I can picture you in shorts and a T-shirt, but not Static.

DrH: Yeah well sometimes it's just me working out. I guess it's been busy for the Teen Titans, too. I've only talked to Raven once and forget Robin. And since Static and I are in the same house, there's really no need for the computer. I came ounce a week for my session, but got nobody last week, and only Raven the week before that.

Knight: So what did the two of you talk about?

DrH: I ended up telling her about my mother. The last time I saw my mother, actually.

Knight: Was it bad?

DrH: Is Batman hard as stone?

Knight: Want to talk about it?

DrH: I'm okay now. Between Raven, BP, Static and a surprise visit from Batman (guess _he_ isn't too busy) I'm pretty good right now.

Knight: Good. Any news on Sean Foley?

DrH: No. Thank God. He seems to have vanished off the face of the Earth.

Knight: Well, we can dream. How's Static?

DrH: He's still flying high after getting to work with Lil' Romeo. Not that I blame him.

Knight: The rap kid? He needed protection?

DrH: Not if he hadn't been wearing a Static costume. I swear, can't Bang Babies tell the difference in height and voice if nothing else? Moron. Anyway, the Leach finally figured it out and grabbed Virg instead.

Knight: Are you going to tell me the whole story or am I just going to have to be content with half-answers?

Hotstreak enjoyed reading the story from Richie's point of view. The blonde explained about a new Bang Baby that had shown up. He sucked out other metahumans' powers and kept them for himself. He'd even broken into the metahuman prison to kidnap Ebon. Like a real leach, this one had to feed regularly. He couldn't keep his powers for more than a few hours. _We were just lucky that Ebon was captured and sent back to jail._

Hotstreak grinned, thinking of how he, Ebon and Talon had run away, leaving a weakened, powerless Static to face Leach alone. _Not the best thing I've ever done, but I wasn't in the mood to play hero. _He snickered. _We escaped and shut the door on Static. Then I heard something, turned around, and saw Gear looking down at us. He didn't hit me with a missle, though; he just threw a little grenade with metal cords in it at Ebon. Talon and I scattered, but I don't think Gear wanted to catch us. He could have. Both of us were just as powerless as Ebon and Static. Maybe that was Gear's way of saying "thanks for staying out of trouble" for a month. Who knows? I won't count on that sympathy later, but it was fun to watch Ebon get nailed again while I got away._

DrH: So I'm okay. School starts soon- our senior year.

Knight: Have you picked a college yet?

DrH: I've applied to quite a few, but I'm not sure if I'll take any of them.

Knight: Why?

DrH: Because I'd have to leave V.

Knight: Barbara and I had a similar problem. She went away and I stayed in Gotham to fight with Batman. Alongside Batman. You know what I mean.

DrH: Yeah. You mean fight against him and with him against the world. What happened?

Knight: We broke up. But before you say anything, keep in mind that not all relationships break up because of distance, and many are strong enough to last no matter how far away you are.

DrH: I think V and I are like that, but maybe that's just wishful thinking. And even if we stayed together, could I stand being away from him for so long? Nightwing, this is something I haven't talked with anybody about yet. I'm still trying to figure it out. Do you mind listening?

_Not n the least, _Hotstreak thought, leaning unconsciously closer to the computer screen.

Knight: Of course not. Go ahead.

DrH: I never thought being gay would be like this. I have all these tendencies to do things my mother did- or should have done. Like enjoying cooking and wanting to stay near my family. I don't really need to go anywhere else to be happy. There's a part of me that knows I want to do something with my life, but at least half of me would be content to stay home and take care of V and raise our children.

Knight: That has nothing to do with being gay, Rich. It's part of who you are. Don't be a shamed of it. I think you are, at least a little. Aren't you?

DrH: Yes. I know I shouldn't be; the feminists would skin me alive. But I feel weird liking those things.

Knight: Not everybody's meant to be the head of a corporation or a big-deal doctor or lawyer. Some people are meant to stay home and nurture. And then there are the people who are meant to do both: establish themselves, then return to the home and care for others. Neither Barbara or I was like that. I something think that was one of the reasons we broke up; neither of us wanted to take care of things at home. It wasn't the only reason, and I'm sure there are couples out there where both people work outside the home all the time, but that's not how it worked for us. And it may not work like that for you and Virgil. Just don't be ashamed of what you want. You deserve to be happy just like everybody else.

DrH: I guess you're right. It's just…

Knight: You weren't raised to believe that.

DrH: No. I wasn't.

Knight: Neither was I. Most men aren't. But that doesn't mean we have to do what we're conditioned to do. We're not rats in a maze.

DrH: You know what?

Knight: What?

DrH: I never thought about that before. I need to go think about it.

Knight: Will you listen to a piece of advice?

DrH: Another? Sure, why not?

Knight: Do your thinking on your own for a little while. I know you do that anyways, but do it for a longer period of time before you talk to anyone. If there's one thing I've learned from Batman, it's that keeping to yourself can actually be a good thing when you have something to figure out that's more concerned with you than with anybody else.

DrH: Okay, I'll try it. How long should I keep quiet?

Knight: Until you figure it out, but no less than a week.

DrH: Thanks. I'm gonna go now. I'm cooking tonight.

Knight: Does Static like your cooking better than his sister's?

DrH: This sounds really conceited, but I think _she_ even likes my cooking better than hers.

Knight: That _is_ conceited, even if it's true. Bye, Gear.

DrH: Bye, Nightwing.

_DrH has logged off. Knight has logged off._

Hotstreak sat back and folded his arms. _Huh. _So Gear had motherly, womanly tendencies? _Huh. _Hotstreak could have seen this coming. Almost anybody could have seen it coming.

_Now he _really_ reminds me of Aunt Sue. _He smiled at the connection and added, _I don't mind, either. If… _WHEN_ I tell him what I'm thinking, and persuade Static to stop trying to shock me long enough to listen to me, I'll know at least a little bit of how to deal with Gear. _Then Hotstreak shook his head. _No, what I've just read isn't a way to deal with Gear. It's a way to deal with Richie. I've noticed how Richie's personality carries over into his superhero costume, but there are bound to be differences, too. He might be more prone to fight or more likely to suppress those kinds of feelings._

_Nope. I can't deal with Gear yet. But I have a clue to dealing with _Richie_, and that's a start. Next job: How do I deal with Virgil, Static or both?_

**A/N:** Yay for spying Hotstreak!


	13. BP Log Virgil Diary

**A/N:** I'm sorry this one is so short, but the long one's coming. It's almost done, but I didn't want everyone to have to wait another two days.

**_Attention Static Shock fans:_** I have, in my possession, fan art drawn by a talented artist. The artwork was inspired by this story. If you want to see it (and I really encourage it- tis' amazing and hilarious) email me. Don't send your request through the review because I need your email address.

Here's mine: macfal1219 story continues…

Backpack's Personal Log (7)

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (6)

Backpack's Personal Log

Personal Log

Date: 8-30-05

Subject: Miscellaneous

None of the Bang Babies are out of jail yet, but there has still been work for Gear and Static. Shenice, superheroine Shebang, came to Dakota in search of her missing parents. She followed Gear and Static to the gas station and discovered that they are Richie and Virgil. I knew she was following us, but I thought she was a friend. When I realized that she might discover who Richie was, I tried to warn him. It was too late. She had already seen.

What Richie said when I activated my alarm to warn him hurt. He said, "Sure, _now_ your alarm goes off." He has never said anything so harsh or cold to me before, or at least it doesn't feel that way. Perhaps he has, but not in public. I do not understand why that should cause more pain than private words, but it does.

I haven't told him it hurt, and I closed off that part fo myself because he needed to concentrate on Shebang's worries. And now two days have passed; it is too late to bring it up.

And yet, I saved two lives the day after Richie corrected me. A man, Coneg, four thousand pounds of near-solid matter, had placed collars around the necks of Shenice's parents to make them cooperate. When they couldn't do what he wanted, not through lack of trying, Coneg activated the collars, which would inject a deadly substance into their necks in less than three minutes.

Static chased after Coneg, but Shebang needed Gear to help her. And Gear needed me. Simply put, I had to find the access code to unlock the collars before time ran out. Shepbang didn't believe I could do it; she tried to take off the collars herself, which would have surely set them off. But Gear said, "No. Let me handle this." I was starting to get annoyed that he was going to take credit for my work, but then he turned to me and said, "Come on, Backpack. You can do it!" I read all the faith he had in his eyes, and I knew that he really believed in me.

I loved that encouragement and my annoyance disappeared. But his voice in my mind filled me with pride and happiness. He sent: _I know you can do it, BP. I know you can. _His complete, uncomplicated confidence was wonderful to hear.

With point-seven seconds to spare, I found the access code. Richie's voice in mind was exaltant. With point-seven seconds to spare, I found the access code. Richie's voice in mind was exultant. _Yes! I knew you could do it! BP, you're wonderful! _And he said out loud, though I am sure Shenice was too busy hugging her parents to notice, "Good job, BP."

And now I am confused. Should I be angry or hurt that Richie reprimanded me in public or does his later, unfeigned praise negate the injurty? I'm not sure, and I can't know if it's all right to ask Richie. It probably sin't because I might hurt him. But he might discover that I am troubled and thus ask me why I didn't tell him. He would be hurt by my secrecy.

Only one thing is certain: I have never been in a more complicated situation.

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins/Static Shock

Dear Diary,August 31, 2003

I should be enjoying my last weekend of summer vacation, but instead I'm going to write. Because I need to figure this stuff out. And I can't talk to anyone. And for the moment, I have to forget how crazy my thoughts sound. Sharon- yes, I'm giving her credit- said once that we are only as healthy as we are honest with ourselves. I don't know if she was quoting someone else, but it made so much sense to me. She said it only a month ago, actually. So here goes.

I think someone's trying to tell me something. The last three missions I've been on have been almost-solo and they all seemed determined to teach me a lesson. So, what's the lesson? I should know it after three missions, right? Well, I think I get it, except I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something.

Writing like that isn't going to help me. It's all in vague, broad terms and that's only good in English to B.S. answers on a test. I'll treat this a little like a testanyway and recap what's happened recently.

Mission one: Sharon talked me into reading old comic books to a couple of ancient men in a nursing home. Since Richie was spending time with his parents, checking out some colleges outside the city, I was bored out of my mind. I hate to say this, but I miss Hotstreak. I could have really used some action in the week before I helped Sharon att the nursing home. Richie called every night, and I talked to him on line a little, but you and I both know that just isn't the same as having someone right there.

I was trying to talk about that mission, wasn't I? Skip it for now. I'll get there eventually. Right now, I'm thinking about Richie. That seems to happen a lot. Okay. Wipe the dopey grin off your face, Virgil. Good boy.

He likes it here. I never realized how down and sad Richie could get sometimes until he moved in here. Now he's up and happy and doing things all the time. He helped Sharon paint her room the other day.

That grin just won't go away.

They painted the room something called "Lavender Mist." I just call it purple. Richie had paint on his hands and face when they were done. I offered to help them paint, just to spend some more time with Richie, but Pops suggested I let Richie and Sharon have "bonding time."

I got my own time with Richie afterwards. And my grin won't quit. It just gets bigger and bigger… I watched him, shirtless, scrub his hands, arms and face to get all the purple war-paint off. I think the paint looked better on him than it did on Sharon's walls. I told Richie that, then decided he looked just as good in blush-pink. Richie took after me with a wet towel, snapping it with the same deadly-accurate wrist-motion he uses to throw his Zap Caps. He chased me downstairs, through the living room, three times around the kitchen table and then back upstairs. Nobody else was home (Sharon had gone out with Adam and Pops was at the Center) so there was no one to tell us not to run. I tried to hide in my bedroom, but I didn't close the door fast enough. Okay, I could have closed it a _little_ faster.

It was fun to let Richie catch me.

Hold on a sec. The window's open. No it's not. But why does it feel so cold in here? Let me just open my bedroom door and get a little heat in here. Richie's cooking dinner, Pops is paying bills, and Sharon's going over some of her cases, so nobody will just walk in while I'm working. And I can always close this before they read anything. Wait. Where's Backpack? Oh yeah; he's under Richie's bed in recharge mode. No worries there.

I've turned my back on the chair by my window. Looking at it is like standing in a darkened, locked room, staring into a mirror and saying "Bloody Mary" three times, then turning on the light and hoping she will/won't show up to scare you shitless.

I don't know why I suddenly thought of this. Maybe because I wrote the word 'bedroom,' or maybe for no reason at all. Richie's dreams have been mostly peaceful but about two weeks ago he woke us all up. And for three nights after, I kept waking up, thinking I'd heard him screaming. But he was quiet every time I went into his room. The night he woke us up, he was dreaming about his father. Well, that's what he told Pops and Sharon. I stayed with Richie after they'd gone back to bed and he told me about his visit to his mom. About how she was sitting in the chair with the doll in her arms, rocking it, cooing to it, calling it Richie.

I'm giving myself the creeps. I can feel her sitting behind me in the chair by my window, but she isn't really there. And it's stupid to be so afraid when the sun's shining. Okay, so the sun is setting, but it's still light outside.

Back to Richie's dream. I knew she had a nervous breakdown, but I didn't know she was in a mental hospital. I didn't know she had yelled at her son and triedt o hurt him. That visit was what Richie dreamed about, or a version of it, at least. He dreamed that when he went to see her, she accused him, then had two huge men in white robes take him to Calvary Hill to be crucified. He was given a crown of thorns and beaten, just like Jesus. But when he was taken to the cross to be killed, I was there. I was on a cross already and Richie said I was dead. That's when he screamed.

I don't know why he didn't tell Pops and Sharon about his dream, but I'm glad he told me the truth. When he told me everything, Backpack and I held him and talked to him until he fell asleep. I wish Backpack had been at the gas station. I know it's selfish, but I wanted to be the one to help Richie.

Backpack and I had an argument about it the next morning while Richie was at the Center, helping Pops hang some posters. I've never seen somebody so happy to work away his summer vacation. I need to teach Richie how to kick back and relax. I always thought he knew how; he was always relaxed before when wer were little. But now I think maybe he was just like that with me because he worked so hard at home, or maybe just because he was so tense and nervous at home.

Back to the fight I had with Richie's invention. I could have been more tactful. I told him what I thought of his interference, what I thought of him, and what I thought of his possessiveness of Richie. "Richie's going to get married someday, and then he won't need you," is what I told the little robot. The argument ended when Backpack shut himself off, probably trying to ignore the truth. I shouldn't have said it that way, but it's still true. Richie _won't_ always need Backpack. I can't tell Richie this, but I don't think he'll always be Gear. I can't tell Richie that, but it's something I learned during one of those missions I mentioned. Or maybe I learned it during all of them.

Back to the first mission, though, and what I learned there. I'll be able to talk about Richie through the missions. The old comics I was asked to read were about this superhero from the sixties named Soul Power. Funky name for a superhero, right? Qell, that's what I thought. He had powers just like me, and a partner named Sparky. Kind of like Gear and me, except Sparky was half partner and half sidekick, a title Gear will never take. But it was different with Soul Power and Sparky because Sparky was something like ten years younger than the man he worked with.

One of the old men I was reading these corny comics to was Mr. Grant. Turns out he was really Soul Power. The two of us teamed up (okay, so at first I was more or less forcedt o work with him) to fight Soul Power's old enemy, Professor Menace. Dr. Bad Dude was already taken, I think. All through our partnership, Soul Power kept calling me Sparky, which annoyed me at first. I am _no one's_ sidekick. But as we worked together, as I started taking his suggestions, realizing that he knew some things about he superhero gig that I didn't, I kept thinking of Gear.

When Richie first got his powers, neither of us really thought of him as superhero material. Rich has always wantedt o be a superhero, but when he found out that he had super intelligence, he summed up his and my doubts pretty well: "What am I supposed to do? _Think_ the bad guys into submission?" I wanted to tell him he could still fight crime, but really I was afraid for him. I mean, even now I'm afraid for him most of the time when we're out there, Backpack or no Backpack, Zap Caps or no Zap Caps. Because when you come right down to it, Richie isn't even as well off as Batman because Richie's skinny as a rake. Oh, the Zap Caps he carries aren't weightless (he carries three of each type, except for the ones with metal coils- he carries two dozen of those at all times) and he's gotten stronger, especially his legs, but _he isn't strong enough._ He still would never win a wrestling match.

To get back to how this all relates to my mission with Soul Power: Even though I had superpowers, I felt like Gear because I was suddenly less powerful because I didn't know how to fight Professor Menace. I couldn't fight Professor Menace. He might have been old, but his inventions had been designed to fight Soul Power and, as I said, we have the same powers. And as if that isn't enough, just like Gear, Sparky was only able to fight because he built a suit to make him like Soul Power.

All right, I know what you're thinking: why do I feel sometimes like I'm the major superhero and Gear is the sidekick? I can't answert hat, except to say that I've been doing this longer, I've had more training, I'm stronger, I have the useful superpowers… and I was made for this.

That was harsh. I can't let Richie ever see this book.

But it's still true. Richie wasn't made to this. When I said he wasn't meant for crime fighting, I was talking about his mind as well as his body. I can't even begin to count the number of times I've had to say, "Focus, Richie!" or "Gear, can you focus please?" The truth is that sometimes there's so much going on in Richie's head that he can't sort out what's relevant to the moment without a reminder.I get distracted, too, and sometimes need a reminder, but but not half as often as Richie.

I'm really starting to feel like a scumbag. Let's just drop all this for now.

Mission two:

Three days after Soul Power, Sparky and I defeated Professor Menace, Pops, Sharon and I spoke to Shelly Sandoval, the same reporter who covers a lot of my exploits as Static. I almost chickened out because I was afraid I was going to cry in front of the camera. I couldn't even think about talking about my mom's death, but Pops had agreed to speak so I went to support him.

Richie was still off with his parents, but he called after the interview. I almost cried on the phone, but I didn't want to make Richie feel guilty. He _should_ be out finding a college. I won't hold him here. I won't have enough money to go anywhere besides Dakota University.

I won't hold him here, but I'm afraid of losing him. Soul Power lost Sparky. Sparky came back and agreed to help him, but at first Sparky refused to help Soul Power and I when we were looking for help. He blew Soul Power off. Richie would never blow me off. We're tight. Just because he's been busy lately, just because he's been talking with other superheroes and asking them for help, none of that means that we'll fall apart. We're too close for that to happen.

Backpack and I have the same fear: losing Richie. That's not good. Okay, Virgil, forget about it. Go back to the second mission.

The day after the interview, Richie came back to our house and the two of us went on patrol. I told him that I was forgetting my moms, but I didn't get a chance to really explain that. I didn't have to. Richie has always been able to tell when I really need his patience and understanding, his acceptance of my words without question.

On patrol, we met Nina, who could, as Richie put it, "review herself through time like a tape through a VCR." (He said it that way so I could understand it, but he only dumbed it down after I reminded him to give his explanation in English. Sometimes, I'm afraid Richie and I are growing apart, and that it has nothing to do with his superpowered brain.) Nina was actually a lot like a tape, because she couldn't control how much she moved back. She would go jumping back without any warning or ability to control the time she skipped over. So Gear built her a device to control her power. Of course, it wasn't that simple. He stayed up through the night, then crashed for about four hours on the gas staion sofa. Nina, because she was being hunted by Ebon, stayed at the gas station with Gear. Ebon (big surprise) wanted to use Nina's powers to commit crimes.

Wait. I didn't mention this, did I? Ebon escaped from jail, using basically the same method Leach had used to kidnap him. He was out for all of two days, and during that time he showed absolutely no acknowledgement that Gear had escaped him almost two months ago. He seemed totally focused on Nina. Now, that really confuses me, but I was so taken up with grief for my mother that I didn't have time to think about it then. And I want to finish this. I'll come back to Ebon's odd behavior later.

Back to the gas station. Kind of like "back to the future" which wouldn't be a bad phrase, considering everything we went through. Anyway, while Nina sat at a table, having slept most of the night while Gear worked, Gear crashed on the couch, still in his costume. He set Backpack as a discreet guard, but Nina didn't even go too near him, preferring to sit at the table and think, or eat the small breakfast Gear made her before he fell asleep. I wonder if she watched him sleep. Not because I'm jealous or anything, but I've always wondered what a civilian would do if a superhero was sleeping nearby. Maybe she look at him, or maybe she knew Backpack was watching her and didn't want to attract attention. I tend to think she looked at him, though, because of what happened in the park when Gear woke up. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I didn't want to go home, but somebody had to be there to tell Pops Richie was exhausted and had gone to bed early and had asked not to be disturbed. His nightmares were on all our minds, so Pops agreed at once, saying that Richie needed the rest. I didn't really get much sleep that night and I slept with my Shock Vox under my pillow, just in case Richie needed me. Just in case Ebon tracked Nina or Nina saw him without his helmet or he needed someone to talk to as he worked or Nina kissed him or Backpack left them alone for a minute and she threw herself at him. Okay, most of that sounds crazy, but it could have happened and Richie wasn't the best at dealing with people. He isn't socially inept, but he does get distracted, as I think I've mentioned. And not everybody can deal with that side of him. I know for a fact that it annoys the hell out of Frieda.

The next morning, I met Nina and a rejuvenated, grinning Gear in the park. Except Gear had helped Nina make a costume and her new name was TimeZone. She hung all over Gear and even kissed with through his face plate. Now, Shebang had kissed both Gear and I only a few weeks before, just like that. And even if Gear blushed a little, he didn't' seem flustered or nervous. Maybe it was because we were used to Shebang doing off the wall things, or maybe it was because Nina had been trying to flirt with him all night and he just didn't want to tell me.

But I couldn't be mad at Nina right then, even if she'd made Gear look uncomfortable. She was so eager to help, to do something good with her power, that it was easy for me to convince her to take us all back to the night of the Dakota Riots, when my moms died, and try to stop them. Gear was against it from the first, pointing out that we might do serious damage to the time line, but when I begged, he agreed, probably because he could see how desperate I was. Or maybe it was because Nina begged, too. I can't be sure.

Because as worried as I get, Richie's heart is in the right place when it comes to me and to the rest of the world. So he could have given in because I asked, because he loves me, or maybe because Nina was someone he could help. But it was hard to think like that when she so obviously fawned over him. I couldn't help but think that he was risking everything just for her.

And that's unfair and I know it and I'll go back and erase that later. I was supposed to be talking about _Richie_ throughout these missions, not some metahuman who doesn't matter anymore. Whatever convinced Richie to help, the fact remains that he has a big heart. Actually, that's probably another reason he isn't made to be a superhero. You have to want to help people, but you have to possess street smarts and a little hard side, a side that will keep you from becoming a victim. I have nothing but respect for Richie, breaking his father's cycle of intolerance and still managing to be happy most of the time, but a lot of times, when someone is abused he is used to that and doesn't stand up for himself. I'm not saying that's what Richie is like, just what happens a lot. _Richie isn't like that. _

And I thought Richie had that hard side after Brainiac and after he got mad at Slipstream but now he's the meek mild (or at least nonagressive) Richie I've always known. That's one thing that makes me feel better actually: even if Richie and I seem to be growing apart, there are times when he needs me, so I don't think we'll fall apart. Richie isn't strong enough to make it on his own. He'll always need me.

This is good, because I need him, too.

We went back in time, but even though I got to see Moms and talk to her, I couldn't save her. I talked to Pops afterwards, though, and he told me she'd kept calling me her superhero, so I did change the past without affecting the future too much, except now I'll never forget her. And she'd died being proud of me and what I'd chosen to do with my life.

Thank you, Richie. Thank you for giving me memories of my moms. I love you.

Didn't I say all three missions taught me something? Well, the first one taught me what Richie probably feels like sometimes, especially when others call him my sidekick or leave him out of the stories entirely. The second one taught me I can always depend on Richie. He'll always be there for me because we need each other. But the third taught me something awful: as much as I want to believe what mission two had to teach, I'm going to have to give up Richie some day, not as a partner (thought I think that will happen, judging by what I saw) but as a lover. In short, my third mission sent me to the future, and I didn't like a lot of what I saw.

First, and least important, I didn't like the new Batman, Terry something or other who took over for Batman when he got old. Second, and quite a bit more important, when I saw a recording of Richie in his costume, he was FAT! Huge! I mean, he was disgusting! And his voice-! I thought I was going to be sick.

Most importantly, though, was what the new Batman said to me: "You have a son." Now, how could I have a son if I was still with Richie? It's impossible! Unless we adopted, but the way Batman said it, I think it was my biological son. Which means I met and fell in love with someone new. Well, maybe after Richie let himself go…

Okay. I sound really shallow, but you didn't see him! He was gross! Sickening! How could he let himself go like that and still try to fight crime? So the first thing I did when I got sent back to the past was to tell Gear to go on a diet. I guess he eats a lot, but I never noticed. And he doesn't look fat to me, but who am I to argue with the future?

On the other hand, I met myself in the future, and not only am I strong and fierce and kick-ass but (sorry, I can't help it) I'm hot. I bet the Static I met had everyone throwing themselves at him, both men and women. Maybe I fell in love with a groupie.

Okay, it's out of my system. Question is, what do I do with what I know? I haven't said anything to Richie, but I haven't kissed him since I got back yesterday, either. And he hasn't approached me yet. Maybe he hasn't noticed that I've been cooped up in here. For the most part, he's been spending time with my family. I guess I can understand that; he's never had a family, a real one, before. Still, I wish he'd come up and talk to me. Do I always have to be the one to seek him out?

All right, Virgil. Stop. Just breathe for a minute.

Richie… In spite of everything, I still love him. And maybe I can stop some of the things that happened in the future. And about the other lessons I learned… I'm still scared of losing Richie, but what can I do? And I can't even tell him that I don't want him to fight crime anymore. This is no way to have a relationship with somebody. As Pops said, I have to treat Richie now as I want to treat him ten or twenty or fifty years from now.

Maybe that means I should go find him and talk out all these issues. And that includes the Nina issue and the problems Backpack and I are still having (that we'll be having as long as we see each other for more than five minutes at a time.)

**A/N2:** Again, I'm sorry for the length. It's half of normal, or about that. But the usual twenty-pager is on its way.

**konekodelphi:** Thank you for the warm review.

**Ebon's girl:** I know the updates have become longer, but I'm going to try and make them more regular again.

**MsManga:** Poor BP… The world makes no sense to him sometimes. Maybe that's why he creeps us out: because _he's_ creeped out. I'm sorry there's no Hotstreak in this bit, but there's going to be quite a bit in the next one.

**Moonjava:** Thank you for your review. Your reviews always make me smile.


	14. Chapter Four: September

**A/N:** Well, I got a lot more time to myself today, to write, do housework and bake brownies, than I thought possible, so here's the next bit. Enjoy!

Oh, and if you want to see the Static Shock pictures, **_email me!_** Macfal1219 Four: September

Chapter Four: September

Richie curled up on the couch in the Hawkins' living room, his eyes drifting closed. Everything considered, he felt pretty good. True, he'd been sort of excluded from most of the Static-Gear action lately. It had been Static action. Still, he wasn't sure if it bothered him too much. It felt really good to just sit around or help out a little and not be yelled at if he botched something.

_Not that I would ever want to retire my skates, but… _He sighed. _Maybe soon I'll be ready to jump back into everything, but it's just so… different here. _He'd been about to use the word "peaceful" but he had to laugh at himself because it was nosier here than at any of the houses he'd lived in before. _But maybe peaceful is still an okay word. Nobody really means anything harsh they say and Mr. H doesn't hit his kids._

Strange how he kept coming back to that. _I guess I can't forget my father no matter how much I try. I know he's out there, and that makes me nervous, but… that's not why I keep thinking about him. He's not here, and even though that means I'm free to love V, I feel like something's missing. I don't miss being hit, but… He praised me sometimes. He was proud of me sometimes, or good reasons like good grades or some community service I did for the Meeting Hall, like when I fixed all the lights at quarter of the cost of a normal electrician. And he was worried about me- came to see me in the hospital and everything- when Jimmy Osgood accidentally shot me._

Richie was forced to admit that if his father came back into his life and smiled at him and promised never to hurt him again (_and let me love V; don't forget that_) he would drop everything and go with him. _And even if he just walked back into my life without promising anything, I would still want him to hug me._ Sean Foley had never made a habit of hugging his son or his wife, but every once in a while he would do just that, and though Richie could count the number of times he'd been hugged by his father on two hands, he still loved the feeling and missed it.

_I sound ungrateful for everything Mr. H, Bernadette and John gave me, but I can't lie to myself. I miss my dad. And even though I wouldn't let myself go back to him if he wasn't a changed man, it would still hurt to send him away._ Curling into himself a little more, Richie sighed and pushed his glasses up so he could wipe at his eyes. He had dreamt about his parents the night before, and they had both been fine. They'd been helping him cook his own wedding feast while Virgil, Mr. H and Sharon hung around the kitchen, joking and teasing and complaining that the food smelled heavenly and they weren't allowed to sneak even one taste.

Richie had woken up sobbing. Luckily, only Backpack had heard him. Privately, Richie thought that was only because Virgil was so tired from his trip to the future- a trip that Richie didn't know anything about except 1) Batman had been old, 2) he, Richie, had been fat and 3) Virgil had gotten to see himself and judging by his expression, he'd liked what he'd seen.

_I should be happy with the fact that I have a roof over my head and that I'm living with people that actually love me. _

_Not that Dad didn't love me, _he was quick to reassure himself. _It's just that he didn't know how to love me._

Richie sat up and buried his head in his hands. _Fuck this. He didn't love me, and that's the end of it. No one that really loves his children could have hurt me so badly. If we'd just had differences of opinion that would have been one thing. But… _He shook his head. _But he abused me. Pure and simple. And I won't give in to what I wish had happened. I was physically abused and wishing that he was a better father won't erase that fact. And I'll be hanged if I'll give him the satisfaction of knowing that I miss him. And even if he can't know, I won't think that way. I won't throw away all the progress I've made. In spite of everything, I feel better now than I did a year ago, and that's the truth. _

Richie sat up straight and ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down. The gesture was useless, he knew, but he made it out of habit. And even if there was no father nearby to yell at him (or bruise him) for not having neat hair, he couldn't let go of the habit. It was one of the few connections he had to his father that would look completely natural to a casual observer.

_Not that I'm trying to fool anyone. _Richie made a frustrated noise and stood, turning towards the kitchen with the idea of seeing what there was to make for dinner. Sharon's cooking had sort of fallen by the wayside, but she didn't seem to care.

_In light of the fact that Virg seemed genuinely upset about how fat I become in the future, I think we'll have a decorated, nut-and-raisin salad. _Richie strode into the kitchen and almost bumped into Virgil, who was hurrying through, seemingly on his way to somewhere important.

"Trouble?" Richie asked, wondering why Backpack hadn't alerted him.

Virgil blinked, shook his head, then reached out and touched Richie's shoulder. "I thought… I wanted to…" He glanced around. "Were you going to start dinner?"

"Not yet," Richie answered. He drew Virgil to the kitchen table and pushed at his shoulder until the taller teen sat. "What's wrong?"

Virgil hesitated, then leaned forward, meeting Richie's gaze unflinchingly. "I wanted to tell you a few things and ask you a few questions." Then he ducked his head. Obviously the rehearsed line had sounded worse than he thought it would, at least in his own mind.

"Virg, you can always talk to me. Please tell me." Richie felt the worries about his father slip away and he was glad to let them go.

Virgil swallowed several times, looked around for a moment, then sighed. "Rich… What do you think of Nina?" He winced, but Richie just shrugged.

"She's nice. I'm glad she gave up her power, though. It was dangerous." He touched Virgil's hand where it lay on the table top. "But I'm glad you got to see your moms."

His boyfriend shifted in his chair. "She kissed you and you sort of jumped. You didn't do that when Shenice kissed you."

Richie laughed. "Well, Shenice didn't wrap her arms around me! And besides, I knew her better. Nina surprised me, that's all." He watched Virgil relax, and grinned. "You don't think I'd take up with some other crazy metahuman, do you? You're the only Bang Baby, the only _person_ I could ever fall in love with, Virg."

Virgil tried to pass it off as if he hadn't been worried, but Richie saw him relax even further. His boyfriend sat forward again. "I love you, Richie."

The blonde blushed; he thought he might do that for the rest of his life every time Virgil said those words. "I love you too, V." He raised an eyebrow. "So, was that it?"

"No, I… I wanted to say I'm sorry Batman called just me to Gotham. That wasn't fair to me."

Richie shook his head. "He explained it when he called to see if I could rescue you."

"Just like that? He explained everything?"

"Well, maybe I drew a little of the information out of him. He was treating me with care because my father's still out there." Richie shrugged. "I asked him to quit it, and he agreed, saying I had proved myself before."

"Oh." Virgil fidgeted. "Um, about what I said when I came back… You're not fat, Rich. It's just…"

"I was in the future." Richie tried to laugh it off. "That's sort of a Foley trait, but since I won't be drinking any beer by the case full when I turn twenty-one, I think I can avoid it." He saw the skepticism on Virgil's face and said, "Not everything you saw is set in stone, V. If it was, I wouldn't have been able to drag you back because just by pulling you back, I messed with the timeline." The blink he received made Richie smile. "Do you want the scientific explanation?"

"Would I get it?"

"Yeah." Richie was grinning again. Somewhere along the line, Virgil's pleas of "Can you kick that in English?" had turned from calls for help to an expected line that was more like a tease than anything else. "Think of a stream running down from the mountains to the plains below. When I found you in the future, locked onto your body signature and pulled you back, I changed the future while I changed the present because, at least according to how that machine was supposed to work, you were supposed to stay in the time the machine dumped you in. I put a boulder in the middle of the stream and changed its course. Only a little, probably, but it's been changed. And everything we do at each moment changes the future in tiny ways because there are a lot of ways every decision we make can affect us." He waited to see if Virgil had any questions, but the other teen was nodding. "Make sense?"

"Yeah." And suddenly Virgil looked as if he'd been able to set down a twenty-foot iron statue in a safe place after carrying it for a hundred miles or so. He got up, stepped around the table, drew Richie to his feet and kissed him. "Yeah," he whispered when he pulled back a few moments later, "I get it now. Thanks, Rich."

Richie shook his head. "Will you tell me why you were so worried?"

Virgil paused, then answered, "Can I tell you some other time? I feel really stupid about it right now."

Richie laughed. "And any man who can admit that deserves to have the time to forget his embarrassment." He took a step back, but held one of Virgil's hands. "Do you want to help me make dinner? I heard somewhere that you make really good sandwiches. Between those and the salad I was going to make, we'll have a feast."

Suddenly, Virgil pulled Richie against him and gave him a fierce hug. "I'm lucky to have a genius for a boyfriend."

Beaming, Richie returned the embrace measure for measure. "I'm lucky to have you too, V. I think I'd go nuts without you there to joke me out of things." He felt the tension in Virgil's arms and shook his head. "I guess I didn't help everything. What's up?" He pulled back and gazed at Virgil.

"I…" Virgil licked his lips. "It's selfish, Rich."

"So? Everyone gets to be selfish sometimes." He was aware that he applied that truth to everyone but himself, but kept his mouth shut on that score. "What's wrong?"

Virgil couldn't resist the earnest, loving look Richie was giving him. He cracked. "I don't want to lose you when you go to college, but…" He licked his lips again. "I don't want to hold you here. You're too smart for Dakota U."

Richie blinked. "Virg," he said, grasping the other teen's shoulders in a firm, unbreakable grip, "I'm going to stay here for undergraduate studies. Why shouldn't I? And by the time I'm ready to get my Masters, maybe they'll be offering everything online." He leaned forward and kissed Virgil, making sure their eyes were locked the whole time. He drew back slightly. "And if that's not true, I believe in us too much to be worried. We'll always be aces, no matter what. We won't fall apart."

Hearing his own words, ones that he had spoken to Richie two years ago, made Virgil grin. "I love you." He hugged Richie again, feeling as Richie's body conformed to his. "We should make dinner."

"We have two hours," Richie answered, his voice muffled against Virgil's shoulder. "Nobody's home. Can we just sit on the couch for a little while?"

"You're so romantic, Rich." Virgil stepped back and offered his arm. "Come into the parlor, sir. Everything is ready for your perusal, complete with plumped cushions and your own personal massage therapist."

Richie bowed and took Virgil's arm. "Just as long as I get to return the massage, that's fine with me."

oOo

McClain Walker and Megan Joslin watched the battalion of well-dressed men exit the elevators, cross the lobby, and walk through the front doors without so much as a glance at anything around them.

Megan dropped to one knee when they were gone to check on her guide dog, Painter. His head was turned in the direction of the exiting men, but he didn't seem worried. Standing up, Megan asked softly, "Who was that?"

McClain shrugged, but remembering that Megan couldn't see her whispered, "Who knows? A bunch of religious guys, I'd bet. Some of them were wearing crosses. Maybe they're Catholic priests here for a little R n' R."

"Did they have notched collars with little white things on them?" Megan took a step, thinking she would engage one of the Catholics in a debate. Since leaving the Christian church four years ago, she sought any opportunity to talk to someone supposedly wiser than herself about what she read in the Bible.

"No. And they really don't look like Catholics, actually." McClain grasped Megan's shoulder. "Come here."

"What?"

McClain turned her older friend away from the doors and whispered, "Some of them are coming back in. I don't want them to think we're staring. I don't like them."

"What's wrong with them?"

"Who knows? They're just- One of them's coming this way." McClain turned back, wishing her mother was there to deal with the visitors to the family hotel. _Better yet, I wish these business-type creepoids hadn't shown up at all. _"May I help you?"

Painter got up and planted himself between Megan and the man. The seventy-five pound shepherd didn't growl, but he also refused to go back where he'd been.

"Ring room 8. Tell the occupant we're waiting."

Megan listened to the man's voice. He sounded irritated and/or nervous. _Not that I'm the best judge of voices, and maybe people talk differently down here in Kentucky. I wouldn't know. I'm from New York. But this guy doesn't sound like he's from Louavul. _She hid the smile that came every time she said the city's name just like McClain, who had spent four years down south.

"What's your name?"

"McClain."

"Can't you see who I'm looking at you stupid girl?"

"I'm Megan," Megan answered, "and-"

Painter lunged at the man and Megan had to drop to her knees and restrain him with both her arms.

"You should keep your guard dogs better trained."

"He's a guide dog," Megan answered absent-mindedly as she urged Painter into a sit and began to scratch behind his pointed ears. His fur was sticking up in bristles under her hand and she could feel him trembling. She continued to calm him, speaking softly and petting him, trying to turn his head away from the man, who she could still sense standing a little to her right.

"Ring the room already!" the man snapped.

"One moment please… Hello, Mr. Foley. This is the front desk. Your party is ready to leave." She hung up.

The man stalked away towards the elevators.

Painter growled again and made a half-lunge after him, but Megan drew him back into a sitting position. She said, low, "What's his problem?"

"Which one? The guy on the phone sounded like I was interrupting the most important meeting of his life and then he just hung up on me." She looked down at Painter. "Is he okay?"

"No. He's trembling." Megan rubbed Painter's chest, murmuring to him. "He didn't like whoever that was. I've only seen him do that once before."

McClain watched as the elevator opened and a tall, burly man with blond hair stalked out. He, too, was dressed in a fine suit, and he fell into step behind Painter's target. "Maybe you should just let Painter go. I doubt they're going to stay here another night anyway."

Megan shook her head, but she was grinning. "Painter's on a no-man diet. Too bad it would spoil his training." A pause as she listened to them pass (and restrained Painter, whose growl had become audible once more), then: "Why'd he want to know my name anyway? And why not yours?"

But McClain had seen something the burly blond had dropped. It was only a small card, and he was already gone, so she figured he wouldn't mind if it was missing. She picked it up and brought it back to the front of the desk where she and Megan had been standing. "The guy from room eight dropped something. It's a business card." She went completely still.

Megan stood, after making sure that Painter was going to lay down and relax. "What does it say?"

McClain laughed weakly. "No wonder he didn't want to talk to me."

"What?"

"He's a KKK member."

"They still exist?"

McClain wondered sometimes if someone had put her and Meg together because they were perfectly matched. Meg was a few years than her, but sheltered beyond belief. "Yeah, they still exist, but not as much in the South as everybody thinks. This card says 'Dakota Meeting Hall, 32 Ray Street.'

"Like North or South Dakota?"

"Probably." McClain shook her head and put the card in her pocket. "Mom'll know. She's the geography teacher, not me."

Painter blew air through his nose and Megan smiled down at him. "Yeah, Paint, I know. I think they're idiots, too."

oOo

The new facilities were actually quite nice. Definitely less crowded than the nigger-run shit pile they had all stayed at the night before. Clay kept protesting that the receptionist he'd talked to back in Dakota was white.

Sighing, the man sitting on the bench turned his mind away from last night's cramped accommodations to the splendor before him. Fountains decorated the courtyard, and a small park filled with flowers and more fountains was only half a mile away. Birds sang as the sun rose, and of course the music of the water was welcoming.

_Ah, the music of purification. And why shouldn't the birds add their music? They know how lucky they are to be God's creatures. _Closing his eyes, Sean enjoyed the warmth of the morning sun on his face. _I could feel really comfortable here, and I'm sure Richie will like it, too._ He sighed and stretched his legs out in front of him. _It's so perfect here. And you can't really see the fences well; it's almost like being free. Surely Richie will forget that he's a prisoner and become liberated in Christ by staying here and learning from all the great teachers. And even if their methods seem harsh at first, they are for the best, and Richie will come to realize that as they help him to grow in the Holy Spirit and walk the straight and narrow path. _

He opened his eyes and glanced around once more as a light breeze brought the smell of the nearby flower-boxes to him. _It's strange, but I never thought Kentucky would be like this. So… civilized. I knew how many of our group lived here, but I thought they would be constantly under attack by all the idiot police and the niggers. And yet I find a thriving, humming existence. It's so beautiful here, and we're so well established here… Richie will have no difficulty recovering here. And with so many positive influences and good examples to follow, he will become like those around him: strong in the name of God and wise about the ways of the world. My son will never again be taken in by anyone working for Satan._

As the soft music of the birds and the fountains called to him, Sean closed his eyes again and thought of how innocent and beautiful his young son had been.

_When he was three, he would always climb into my lap and show me the pictures he'd drawn during school that day. I would hold him and read to him from the Bible, then he'd usually go play with his toys and go to bed. _Sorrow tugged at Sean's heart. _Why do our children have to grow up in a dangerous world? Why couldn't we have lived in peace? _But he knew the answer to that: because Eve had sinned and her husband had followed the temptation she offered. Not for the first time, Sean wished he had been the one in the Garden of Eden. He would have put a stop to Eve's foolishness.

Shaking his head, knowing he couldn't change Man's sinful nature, Sean turned his mind back to Richie. _When he was five, I bought him a bicycle. There weren't any training wheels, not for Sean Foley's son. He didn't need them. Richie fell off again and again for hours, so I finally took him inside to talk to him. He wouldn't listen, but I made him listen. And the next day, Richie rode that bike all by himself without falling once. _He felt his heart swell with pride. _My Richie could always do anything he set his mind to. It was just getting him to set his mind to things. He was so scatter-brained as a kid. Probably got that from his mother. I'm just glad I could always bring him back down to Earth. And he never minded that I had to be hard on him._

Sean's hands tightened into fists. _That's not true. He went on trial against me._

_He didn't want to,_ a voice said in his mind, a voice that he seemed to be hearing a lot lately. _They made him. The lawyers and the stupid superheroes and mostly that nigger that's raping him right now._

Sean sat up straight, his hands shaking. _Right now?_

_At this very moment. Richie's crying for you and wondering why he didn't listen to you. He's in pain, but he won't die of it. He'll jump into your arms the minute you come to rescue him._

_I should go now._

_Not quite yet. Patience, Sean. Patience. I have been patient, and have always brought about the best results. Isn't that so?_

_Yes, Lord. I'm just worried about my son._

_I won't let him die, Sean. I swear it on all that is good and beautiful in this world. Trust me._

_I do, Lord._

Opening his eyes, Sean watched the sunlight play on the water of the nearest fountain. "I'll be patient. I can do that much for the One who has taken such good care of me." Rising to his feet, he turned towards his room, planning to shower before the morning meeting. Maybe they would even be able to give him a date when he could rescue his dear Richie.

oOo

_And here I am again. _Hotstreak looked between Madeline, the schoolgirl with the telekinetic powers, and Ebon. _At least it's a little more fun this time. _He knew Ebon was still licking his wounds. That was the only reason the bad-ass was allowing a girl six years his junior to tell him what to do. _It won't last. The minute we break out of here and Ebon gets a taste of freedom, all his arrogance will come back._

Hotstreak still wondered why he had gotten in trouble. He'd been bored, he decided, and wanted to see Static and Gear. So he stood in the middle of a large park and started using his biological flame throwers to toast trees, bushes, the grass right behind people. He felt an urge to avoid burning anyone, and because he was used to following his impulses, he didn't question this one.

_I tried talking Talon into destroying things right along with me, but she refused. She said she liked flying too much to be trapped in a cell. And I didn't need her around to attract Static's and Gear's attention. _He grinned. _I've never needed help getting attention._

Madeline blasted a hole in the wall and the three metahumans jumped out the window. Hotstreak saw Talon swoop in (_so she followed me! I _knew_ she cared!_) and collide with Gear.

Static's cry was predictable, but it still made Hotstreak feel a little uneasy. Talon knew Static's weakness, but she wasn't working for Ebon. Why did she attack at all? She could have just faded into the shadows and avoided being involved! _I mean, _Hotstreak thought, _if I'd had that option, that's what I would have done. Taking down Static, showing him who's boss, has to occur one-on-one, or else it's not fair-_

_And what the hell is she doing?_

Talon, hovering a few feet off the ground, dropped Gear right next to Ebon, who glanced at him, but then turned his eyes back on Static.

Hotstreak wasn't sure how he'd managed to circle around the fight, but he found himself behind Static. He could feel the air charging around him, and he knew Static would fry Talon. _That dumb chick is going to get herself killed! _Hotstreak began to sneak up on Static, flame in hand. He wasn't going to burn the hero, just startle him into turning away from Talon. _Then maybe I can get Talon's attention and-_

He gaped as Talon picked Gear up under the armpits and dragged him even closer to Ebon. _All right, bird-brain, do you have even a finch's brain in that orange skull of yours? Cuz I know you sure don't have a parrot's brain in there!_

Something fast and purple slammed into Hotstreak from his right and he went sprawling, the wind knocked out of him. Groaning, he lay completely still until he could figure out what was going on. A girl superhero was standing above him and- _Oh no. Not that Shebang girl. _She had effectively kicked his ass once; why was she here again?

Dimly, he heard Static ask, "Shebang?"

Talon, sounding confused, "She-who?"

Then, and Hotstreak had never been so happy to hear his voice, Gear answered, "She's an old friend."

Talon squawked and Hotstreak sat up a little to look. Talon was nursing a few injured feathers on her leg and Gear was standing with Shebang and Static.

That was when Madeline, who'd been apparently sitting on her duff the whole time, started throwing cars at the superhero trio. Five minutes later, Ebon, who was coming back more slowly than Hotstreak could have ever hoped, called a retreat. The four of them, Talon carrying Ebon and Madeline carrying Hotstreak, flew over the city and the superheroes didn't follow. Hotstreak stared down at the buildings below him and thought, _If I could fly, instead of being carried, this would be really cool. _True, he could fly by pushing himself up with jets of flame, but it was a lot more trouble than it was worth most of the time.

Madeline, following Talon, deposited Hotstreak on a barren, trash-littered bit of filthy ground. While she stalked off to either confront Ebon, make a new plan or paint her nails, Hotstreak caught Talon's eye and jerked his head towards a tall stack of garbage. Talon hesitated, then followed him.

The minute they were alone, Hotstreak rounded on her. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Why'd you go after Gear? And even if you had to attack him, why'd you take him to Ebon? What were you expecting to happen?" He advanced on her, eyes changing from blue to fire-white. "Did you want Ebon to take him again? Don't you remember what happened last time? Everybody got trashed because Static called in the Justice League!"

Talon's feathers rustled, but she wouldn't look at him. "I saw a chance. I took it. Get off my back."

Hotstreak stared at her. "A chance? A chance to do what?"

"To stay in the gang!" Talon said, looking at him at last. Hotstreak had to admit that her gaze was a little intimidating. "Look, unlike you, I don't want to be out on my own. I like having a family, screwed up as ours is. I like having a sister and a few stupid brothers. I can't keep away from Ebon and Kangor and Aquamaria. And if that means I have to attack a superhero, I will." She planted her hands on her hips and glared up at him. "What are you going to do about it? Are you going to fight all of us?"

She knew he wouldn't, and Hotstreak hated her for knowing it. "I thought you didn't want Ebon to rape anyone."

She laughed. "He's still shell-shocked. He wouldn't have done anything, even if I'd striped Gear and thrown him in front of him. You know what I think? I think Ebon was almost convinced that Gear was going to give in to him, surrender."

"How can you know something like that?" Hotstreak asked. "You haven't been around Ebon!"

"No, but I slipped back in and talked to Aquamaria, one of the few who wasn't captured because she wasn't there that day. She'd talked to Ebon after he'd captured Gear but before he raped him, and she said Ebon was almost walking on air. He was so sure that he had Gear completely in his power and-"

"Are you trying to tell me Ebon's heartbroken?" Hotstreak snorted and the fire in his eyes faded. "That he thought he had a whore for life?"

Talon spread her wings. "Girls aren't the only ones who can get hurt by a bad relationship." She took off.

Hotstreak didn't bother to call her back. There was no need. _She feels sorry for Ebon! And I thought I'd heard everything!_ Shaking his head at the confusion of the world, Hotstreak stalked around the scrap pile to join the others. _For a little while, at least, I'll pretend to be part of this' family.'_

He sighed as he listened to Ebon and Madeline argue. _And if that means having to put Gear in danger, okay. I can do that. _Sadness washed through him but he didn't' let it show. _Who am I kidding anyway, thinking that Virgil and Richie would ever love me? They'll never even _trust_ me. _So he would pretend excitement in Madeline's plan, and maybe he'd regain his old lust for life's games. _And if I don't… Well, I never thought I would be very happy. It's just harder now because…_

_Because I thought I was going to have something that I could really call mine._

oOo

Gear watched the police load Talon, Madeline and Ebon into the armored car. Men clad in protective suits and holding electrical-pulse prods stood ready, both inside and outside the car to do what they must to keep the Bang Babies under control. They needn't have bothered. Talon was securely held by the tires Shebang had tricked her into falling into, and one of Gear's own inventions kept her from loosing her destructive scream. Ebon was unconscious and Madeline was dazed and confused. _Just the way she was the last time Static defeated her. _

Gear didn't smile. Two guards were leading a shivering Hotstreak towards the waiting vehicle. Both of them looked more than a little nervous, even though Hotstreak was encased in solid ice. _Not that I blame them. _And remembering how willing Hotstreak had been to roast him, Gear added, _And the truce is now off. Whatever was keeping him just this side of annoying and out of the land of dangerous beasts is gone now. _He met Hotstreak's eyes as the metahuman was herded past. _And I'm not scared if you tell Ebon who I am, _he sent. _But if he hurts Virg because of you, I'll see to it that you're frozen within an inch of your life._

Hotstreak looked away.

_Good. You're afraid of me. _But Richie felt immediately guilty at the thought and had to turn away from Hotstreak to hide the confusion and sadness in his expression. _Lord, what's happening to me?_

There was no answer.

Richie fought against instant panic. _He said I wouldn't always hear an answer like that time when I was trapped by Ebon, so I shouldn't expect one. _But then Richie realized that he hadn't really talked to God since then. _Once I wasn't in any danger, I dropped Him like a stone around my neck. _Shame flooded Richie's mind. _I've been so busy working with Nightwing and the others against my anger, so busy getting settled with the Hawkins', so busy trying to forget my father and ignore what my mother said to me…_

_But you can regain what you've lost, Richie, _Backpack said in his mind. _Your faith has weakened, but what are you supposed to do when that happens?_

Richie grinned. _You've been reading the Bible!_

_I found it on-line and accessed it. I am still filled with many questions, but I remember what you're supposed to do when your faith isn't as strong as it once was._

_I need to read the Word of God and pray. _Richie was nodding. _It's a crucial part of the anger-management process and I skipped it._

_You have been through much lately, Richie. Please do not be too hard on yourself._

_I'll try, BP. _Richie reached up and touched his friend's arm. _I love you, BP. And thank you._

_You are welcome, Richie. I am only glad to make you happy._

Richie sensed something in Backpack's words, something his invention wasn't telling him. _This isn't the time, _he sent, _but something's bothering you. Will you tell me later?_

Backpack hesitated. _I am afraid it will hurt you, _he said at last.

_Don't be. As you help me, let me help you. Please?_

Richie's trust flowed down the link and Backpack couldn't do anything but given into the unspoken message that Richie loved, had faith in and depended on him. _Yes, we will talk when we are alone._

oOo

Ebon couldn't move. The most terrible thing about being in prison wasn't the lousy food, the screaming of the other jailed Bang Babies or even the sense of failure and missed opportunities. Being in prison meant being in a coat that was specially designed to prevent him from phasing through the walls. To keep him in jail.

In a way, that had been the worst part of being captured by the Leach: he, Ebon, leader of the Meta Breed, had been kept in one place. No one should be able to hold him. Even when he hadn't had any super-human powers, he'd believed that and it had always served him well. Ebon had always refused to be beaten down by circumstances. He would rise to them, meet them head on, and conquer them.

But being held in a cell was like being knocked all the way back to square one. And even though he would never be defeated, Ebon hated having to start over. He swore to make those who pushed him down pay with their lives.

His list of meditated, soon-to-be-murders was growing. Just recently he'd added Madeline Spalding to that list, just under Static. And there was no one above Static. His parents had once held that place of honor, but Ebon had contracted their deaths last year. No one had grieved except Adam, and he was too busy being pursued by music companies to really grieve. So Shannon and Tyrell Evans were dead, leaving the priority place on his list temporarily empty. Then Static had pissed him off one too many times and had been bumped up from third place to the top.

_Skip Madeline, _Ebon thought as he stared blindly at the stone wall in front of him, his arms locked to his sides by the infernal "coat" he wore. _Put her down at number twenty or so. The first nineteen places are all for Static. He cost me not only Dakota, which I can always win back, but he cost me Gear. He cost me a chance to break Gear and make him mine. He took Gear from me and there's no way I'll be able to get him back now because since Static has defied death once, Gear will be reluctant to give up hope again. The only way I could break Gear would be to kill Static right in front of him._

So Gear was out of his reach until Static was dead and Ebon knew, deep down, that he probably wouldn't ever be able to take Gear as he had. Gear wouldn't break so easily a second time, Static corpse or no Static corpse. _That son of a bitch flyboy is probably filling my Gear's head with all sorts of encouragement and passion and desire. Gear won't break again, even if Static is dead. I've lost him._

And yet, Ebon had never taken defeat easily. There still might be a chance to have Gear to himself… _But it'll be a long time in coming, and I'll have to plan a lot better this time. And when I do, it'll have to be a solo mission. I'm not leaving anything to chance this time. I'll be ready, I'll know the plan, I'll kill Static and I'll take Gear for myself. And if it takes a year, I'll convince Gear to give himself over to me again, to forget that Static ever existed._

_And, _he had to admit, _I'll find a way to make him forget that I raped him. _Ebon cursed himself, knowing he'd destroyed all his work for a few minutes of pleasure. _If I hadn't raped him, maybe I could have talked him into coming back to me. But now… _He sighed and began to kick his feet idly. _Well, whatever I try this second time has to work. Because I won't lose patience and blow everything again. Next time, I'll be ready for Gear, ready to wait him out, to gentle him out of his grief and his fear of me, to convince him that he's everything to me and that I'm sorry about what I did and that I want to love him._

Scowling, he added, needing to still the sudden pain in his chest, _I'll convince him that I'm not lying, in other words._

Turning his mind from Gear, not wanting to torture himself anymore, Ebon thought of the one person he could drown himself in without guilt or concern. _Richie Foley still lives. And I'll bet half of Dakota that he'd surrender to me at once. I could find him- once I get out of here- take him, break him, then keep him around until I'm ready to take down Gear. Then I'll kill Foley, convince Gear I haven't longed for anyone besides him, and make him mine._

He knew raping Richie Foley wouldn't give him the satisfaction he'd once dreamed of; nothing would, after his brush with Gear. But Ebon was a big believer in seeking comfort, even momentary comfort, wherever he could find it. And if that meant pretending that physical pleasure could take the place of true happiness for just a little while, so be it. Just because it didn't take care of his long-term needs didn't mean its temporary benefits should be ignored.

oOo

The room was completely sealed off. Only one vent led into the concrete cell, and the bands on his wrists kept Slipstream from using the small stream of air to his advantage. Grumbling to himself, he plucked at the bright orange fabric of his prison uniform. It was like being encased in a piece of fruit, or dressed in a clown costume. He hated looking like an orange, and wondered if the guards had specifically picked this color to make him look bigger, fatter, uglier.

_I'm not ugly. I'm just big for my age._

That was what his mother always said in his defense, and he'd clung to her words while he was growing up.

But now, sitting alone in his cell, trapped so that all he thought of was his next meal, where there was nothing to distract him except dreams of food, Slipstream, Heavy C, Adedamola Wesley the third knew her words for what they were: placations of fear and sorrow.

_I am fat. Too fat to be a real challenge to anyone. _He remembered Static asking what he was doing besides cornering the market on spandex. That had hurt, more than he ever wanted to admit.

_So, you have two choices, _said a voice in his head. Adedamola, who his mother had always called Adee, was shocked to realize that the voice in his head was that of his father. The man had been in and out of his life when he was growing up, but he had been there long enough to see his son grow from a healthy size to the breadth and poundage of a baby killer whale. _You can either eat yourself into oblivion or do something about it._

Adee stood, resolved to do something about it. _And when I'm strong, when I'm skinny, I'm going after Static and I'm going to show him who I really am. And maybe he'll actually be attracted to me._ Adee began to jog in place.

And when he got tired after two minutes, he resolved to make it to five, then increase that length of time by two minutes each day. He'd been challenged before by man things, no the least of which was to keep his self-confidence when everyone started picked on him because of his size. He would make it through this.

oOo

Richie knew the visit had to come. He couldn't just leave her alone without any contact from her family. But it was so hard to even think of approaching his mother, let alone actually get up the nerve to get on the bus, head down to the hospital and visit her. At least he now had school to worry about- not that it had become a worry since his powers showed up- and to use as an excuse not to see her.

_And of course there's BP to worry about. _Richie sat cross-legged on the couch in the gas station and watched Backpack disengage himself from the computer across the room. _The new link's almost done. Soon we'll be able to hear each other thousands of miles away without any discomfort. _Despite his worries about his friend, Richie longed for that ability. True, they hadn't been separated since Ebon had captured him, but the need was still a very real presence in both their minds. Time hadn't lessened it; they just didn't talk about it to other people. _And next, we'll build a link from my mind to V's. Then all of us will be connected and we'll be safe in that connection._

He resisted the urge to sigh. _Except, of course, for the fact that BP and Virg still don't' completely trust each other._

It never ceased to amaze Richie that Backpack and Virgil were trying to hide their continued lack of trust from him. _Trying and failing, trying again and failing even more quickly. They've had another argument this week, and neither of them will say a word about it. _Richie knew it was something he was going to have to confront but it was like the issue with his mother: he kept avoiding it.

_Somebody my lack of confrontation skills is going to get me into trouble. _He smiled a little. _But not now. Right now, I have something bigger to worry about. I think I hurt BP, and I need to know what I did so I can apologize._

It had felt so natural to fight alongside Virgil again with Backpack guarding him, guiding him, helping him. They hadn't done that in far too long. _Yes, I know we went to the past together, but even then we spent most of our time apart. It's been over a month since we've had a chance to really and truly work together. _Working with Virgil again had calmed him, made him feel like the superhero he was, but the moment he'd linked with Backpack, both of them ready for battle, he'd felt the robot's discomfort. Only when they were completely in sync could he connect with Backpack so deeply, he realized now. _More than that, I built that into the original link between us to protect myself from him._ Richie sometimes wondered what else he had done that he wouldn't completely remember or understand until months later. In a way, it was like sleepwalking all the time. Disquieting, but it usually didn't affect him, so he had learned to ignore it unless he needed something. _It must just be part of the gas's effects. And I'll cope with this eventuality as I've coped with everything else: by loving and being loved by my friends and family and by God. There really isn't anything else I can do. The mind can't be controlled in its entirety, as much as I'd like to believe that. I'll have to rely on my heart and my spirit._

His mind turned to Virgil for a moment- Virgil, back on the couch at home- but Richie wasn't worried about his boyfriend. Even though things were still so new to them, Richie knew instinctively that they didn't have to worry half so much about their relationship as the world wanted them to. And when he said the world, what he really meant was all the movies and media and books and friends' stories that pointed to love, especially love between teenagers, being a short-lived, insubstantial thing. Richie believed that he and Virgil had something special that no one could shake and no circumstances could break. He remembered a line from _The Princess Bride, _a movie he'd watched with Sharon only a few days ago: Westley, the hero of the story, had said to his fiancée, Buttercup (_what a name!_ Richie had thought, amused): "I will always come for you." Buttercup had asked, "But how can you be sure?" And her handsome Westley had answered, "This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?" So, like Westley and Buttercup, Richie chose to believe that he and Virgil could never be parted.

It was strange, but since the battle with Madeline and the Bang Babies she'd convinced to help her, Richie's faith in many things: love, friendship, God, had bloomed to what it had been when he was just emerging, unscathed, from the trial against his father.

Richie shook himself mentally and smiled as Backpack made his way towards the couch. Patting the cushion behind him, Richie offered a silent invitation. When Backpack had settled himself close to him, Richie turned to face his friend and asked plainly, not wanting any riddles between them and not wanting Backpack to think that he had no idea of what was coming, "How did I hurt you?"

Taking Richie's cue to speak, Backpack said, "Richie, it is foolish. And it happened so long ago…"

"But it still hurts, so it's not too late to talk about it. Please tell me, BP." He sent his love and trust through the mental link and waited.

"Richie… I didn't mean to disappoint you when Shebang snuck into the gas station. She was a friend, or so I thought, and so I didn't see her as a threat. Only after realizing that she didn't know your secret identity did I realize I should have warned you that she was there. And by then it was too late."

The robot was still holding back a piece of information, but he seemingly expected Richie to know it, so Richie closed his eyes and thought back to that day. It had been full of so many confusing things: Shenice's confusion, her threat to tell their secret identities to the whole world, his shock that she wouldn't let he and Virgil help her. Richie began to play over the day's conversation, starting from when he and Virgil had entered the station.

_I ordered root beers for us, we sat down, took our masks off, Virg and I heard some gasp, Shenice popped up, BP's alarm went off and I… I…_ "I said something like 'Sure, now your alarm goes off.' " Richie looked at his friend. "Is that it? It is; I can see that." He reached out and touched Backpack's arm. "BP, I'm sorry. I said that carelessly. I hurt you without thinking. I'm sorry."

Backpack's surprise bloomed in Richie's mind. "You forgive me that easily? You can forgive everything I have done in just a moment?"

"All you did was get hurt by a thoughtless rebuke I made," Richie answered. He urged Backpack onto his lap and laid his hands on either side of his invention, gazing into his sensor-eye. "Of course it hurt you. How couldn't it have? And as for me immediately apologizing, that's only because I value our friendship, our partnership, our love for each other so deeply that I couldn't do anything else. I'm so sorry I hurt you, BP. I swear I'll guard my tongue better in the future." He added, his eyes filled with need, "Please tell me when I hurt you. Humans don't always figure things out right away. Please, BP; I never want to lose you as a friend or do anything to jeopardize what we have."

As the presence in his mind eased, as Backpack relaxed and enjoyed their renewed connection, Richie realized, _This is going to happen. The three of us are going to have little misunderstandings like this. And as much as I don't want them, they're completely natural and need to be dealt with as soon as possible. _His faith reasserted itself. _If we do that and swear to do nothing else, we'll always be together._

He grinned. _And if this is an after-school special moment, so be it. I'm just glad this rock is out of our way. I won't be looking for the next one, but I'll be ready when it comes. Because I love Backpack and Virgil too much to let anything get between me and them._

_I guess that means I'll have to talk to them about their issues with each other… But I'm not ready to take that one head-on. I'll try a different approach first; I'll love them both and teach patience and tolerance and maybe they'll come to trust each other. _He smiled. _And of course I'll pray about it. I can't leave God out of our family now._

oOo

_Okay, so we've had our fist bad day, _Virgil thought as he and Richie walked home from school. _It's to be expected. People like us aren't accepted usually. And if a couple made up of a man and a woman of two different races get teased, what should a gay couple made up of the same expect?_

Except the kids at school had done a lot more than tease the two of them; one boy threw a book at Virgil, another tripped Richie on his way through the lunchroom. And then there was the article in the school newspaper. _I can't even believe the teachers let that be submitted, let alone published! _Virgil fumed as he kept his head high and didn't look away from anyone that passed them on the street. _I mean, who do they think they are? How could any teacher condone that sort of shit?_

Richie laughed suddenly and Virgil stared at him, so shocked that he stopped walking. After a moment, Richie turned towards him. He was still laughing, though more softly now. His eyes danced. And he reached out and took Virgil's hand in his.

Virgil darted a glance around, wondering if anyone was watching and disapproving. And if they were, Virgil was ready to take them on.

"Relax, V." Richie was grinning. He drew Virgil closer and started walking again, keeping his boyfriend's hand tightly in his. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, "On a scale of one to ten, one being our ability to capture a jaywalker and ten the two of us saving the Earth from destruction, where do you think one little article in a high school newspaper falls?"

But if he meant for Virgil to smile and relax, it didn't happen. Instead, his boyfriend glared straight ahead and his hand in Richie's was tense and holding too tightly. But Richie wouldn't give up.

"If you're Frieda, it's a nine-point-five and you've decided to write an editorial about it and form a picket lien in front of the principal's office. If you're Daisy, it means you're hovering around Virgil Hawkins and Richie Foley, the semi-disguised subjects of the article, trying to protect them from every mean look. If you're BP, you've suggested that you hack into the school computer and send them all a nasty virus. If you're Shenice, it means you've already asked if Gear and Static can march into Dakota Union High and declare themselves in love so it will look cool." He could see he was getting to Virgil, so he added, "And if you're Gear, you've analyzed the article and already written a counter-article to refute it and poke fun at those who are making all the accusations." He laughed again. "So, if you're Virgil, are you just going to let it get under your skin, or are you going to add something to this long list of suggestions about what sorts of constructive or amusing things can be done?"

At last, Virgil unbent enough to smile and his hand relaxed in Richie's own. "I'm sorry, Rich; it just ticked me off." He let out a breath. "Did you write the article already?"

"I did, and submitted it as a Letter to the Editor. But if it isn't accepted, I'll print out copies and post them all over school as well as stick them in students' accounts on the school website." He squeezed Virgil's hand. "Did you actually read the whole article, or just see the badly-drawn cartoon on the front and read the first quote?"

Virgil stopped walking again. "I wanted to ask you about that. Why'd you give the paper a quote?"

Richie shook his head. "I didn't. The anonymous reporter- and who can blame him or her for being anonymous?- overheard me tell Frieda I wanted to move to Germany so I could marry you."

"And where'd that comment come from, anyway?" Virgil asked as they resume their walk. He was feeling a little easier about the whole thing, but not much because someone had written the article and if they caused anybody- like Richie's father, for instance- to hurt Richie, well, then they were going to wish they'd never learned to write.

The blonde's eyes were sparkling and he snorted. "She was asking me if I would have the bride's maids and you would have the best men. Then she asked if she could be a bride's maid and I told her she could if only she'd come to Germany with us. Then she asked why she'd have to follow us to Germany, and I told her."

Virgil considered that, then asked, "Okay, I get it. But here's another thing: how did Backpack find out so fast? Or were you just guessing what he would suggest?"

"He knows. The connection we've been working on works finally. He can reach me from any distance, or that's how it should be. At least he can reach me from ten blocks away; we know that much now. We'll have to give it a test tonight on patrol, but…" He grinned at Virgil's shocked expression. "I wanted to make sure it would work before I told anyone."

"And it doesn't… I mean, you don't have any…" Virgil was blushing.

"No visions. No slimy-sexual feelings." He saw Virgil's eyes widen and Richie blushed a little himself, though his eyes were still shining. "That's the way I think of the feeling. Somehow, putting a name to it gave me a tiny bit more control over it. Not much, but at the time, anything was better than nothing."

Virgil nodded and put his arm around Richie's shoulders. "I'm glad, Rich." And he did look glad, at least for the moment. "I know it means a lot to you to be able to talk to him."

"If it's okay with you, I want to work on the link between you and me, too," Richie said softly. He was studying the sidewalk in front of his feet. "I want to have that connection to you, too. Like when J'onn connected us. We could choose what thoughts we sent and could keep others from being sent, but… well, I want to be able to reach to you if… something happened."

The arm around his shoulders tightened and Virgil asked, "What are you afraid of Richie?"

"Nothing specific, but so many things have happened… I mean, Virg, we're only sixteen and look at everything that's happened to us. Face it, bro; we aren't your normal high school students."

Virgil nodded. "Yeah, I know." He drew Richie closer. "If you think the connection's safe, go ahead and make it. I want to be able to get a hold of you if I need to, and this thing sounds like it could help."

Richie relaxed and grinned. "I love you, Virg."

"I love you, too, Rich."

**Moonjava:** Thank you for the review and thank you for looking at the pictures. I love them so much and I want everybody to know about them.

**MsManga:** I apologize for the length. I just thought that everybody would rather see _something_, even if it was short, rather than nothing. Plus, I thought it was going to take my three or four more days to write this chapter. We never find out who Virgil had a kid with, just that he has a son… So… Who's to say it couldn't be Richie's baby? (i.e. the tend of "Telling Tales") Oh, and I hope you enjoyed the HS… 


	15. Chapter Five: October: Before the Island

**A/N:** Connecting with the episode order of the series. Just in case you don't know the order, here's the order from "Gear" to the end of the series. It might help to place events. Any episodes I skipped have no bearing on the story.

**Season 3:**

26. Gear

27. Static in Africa

28. Shebang

29. The Usual Suspect

30. A League of Their Own (part 1)

31. A League of Their Own (part 2)

32. Showtime

33. Consequences

34. Romeo in the Mix

35. Trouble Squared

36. Toys in the Hood

37. The Parent Trap

38. Flashback

39. Blast from the Past

**Season 4:**

40. Future Shock

41. She-Back!

42. Out of Africa

43. Fallen Hero

45. No Man's an Island

46. Hoop Squad

47. Now You See Him…

48. Where the Rubber Meets the Road

49. Linked

50. Wet and Wild

51. Kidnapped

52. Power Outage

**A/N2:** Tenshi no Mugen (the sweet, talented artist who's been drawing the pics for this story) has drawn a sweet family portrait of Richie, Bernadette and John. Email me for the pic! It's REALLY REALLY GOOD!

Book III

Chapter Five: October: Before the Island

Chapter Five: October: Before the Island

"How long were you going to wait to tell me?" Robert demanded, facing his son and his foster son across the table. "I had to find out from somebody at the Center who left the school newspaper lying around! Boys, I'm not angry at you, but you can't just let this sort of thing slide! This is wrong, prejudiced and inexcusable!" He shook the paper under their noses, then thumped it on the table for good measure.

Virgil held Richie's hand under the table. "Pops, the article only came out yesterday and… we didn't want to worry you. We're okay with this. We're handling it. Richie's written an article and-"

"And you're not going to fight this?" Robert dropped the paper on the table and stared down at it. " 'Attraction between students can be distracting to those students, but attraction between two boys can distract everybody.' What sort of garbage _is_ this?" His head snapped up. "And how can you be so calm about this?" He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Slowly, the anger left his eyes. "I suppose you're both taking this better than I would, and I should be proud of you for that. But after everything else you've lived through…"

_You have no idea, _Virgil thought, then smiled. His father's comment made him think of Richie's words the day before. "Richie said that on a scale of one to ten, one being getting a paper cut and ten being going through another trial, this is like a four, so we can handle it." He glanced at Richie to see if he minded being misquoted. But Richie was smiling slightly, his eyes dancing. _He liked my adaptation._

Robert was silent for a moment, then he sighed. "Can I see the article you wrote, Richie?"

"It's upstairs," Richie answered. "I can quote it to you if you want." He glanced at the clock. "But I need to make dinner."

Robert smiled. "Will it be published in the school paper?"

"I hope so," Richie answered. "If not, it will be on the school website." He stood and went to the refrigerator, where he'd left some chicken to thaw that morning. "V, will you help me?"

At once, Virgil rose from the table and went to Richie's side. Robert watched them for a moment, working side-by-side, their backs to him, completely relaxed. He decided to leave well enough alone and snuck out of the kitchen.

Virgil peeked over his shoulder when his Pops was gone. "Are you shy, Rich? Why didn't you want to show him what you wrote? I've seen it; it's great."

"Go get me two eggs, will you?" Richie asked as he started to cut up the thawed chicken into cubes. When Virgil was at the fridge, he said, his voice low, "I'm not used to showing anything to anybody. I can do it with you because… well, because you've seen my stuff before. He hasn't. He might… I don't know… laugh at it or something. He might think I'm…" Richie shook his head and started cutting faster. "I'll show him, or he'll see it when it gets in the paper. I just… I don't want to see his face."

Virgil returned with the eggs. "He'll think it's great, Richie. He'll see all the good points you made, how you challenged each point that stupid article made, that you didn't use emotion but logic. No one can stand up against what you wrote. It's perfect."

Richie left off the half-cut chicken, washed his hands and took the eggs. Cracking them into a bowl, he said, "Get the bread crumbs, okay? Virg, logic doesn't do any good against hatred. Don't you know that?" Then he sighed and turned to face Virgil. "I'm sorry, V; I didn't mean that. I know you know." He blushed.

Virgil set the bread crumbs aside and took Richie in his arms. "It's okay, Rich; and don't think that logic can't help some things. It won't change the fanatics' minds, but it'll help the others."

Richie nodded and took a step back. "We've got to finish this."

Virgil retrieved the bread crumbs. "Do you want me to cut the rest of the chicken?"

Richie glanced over his shoulder. "Actually, if you'll grab the olive oil and pour half a cup into that pan there I'll cut the chicken."

Virgil raised an eyebrow as he rummaged through a cupboard. "You don't trust me to cut it just right?"

"No offense, Virg, but even if your sandwiches are to die for, I've seen you cut things before." He was cubing the last of the chicken, but he was only half-looking where his knife was. "You might cut-" He gasped and glanced down at his bleeding index finger. Shaking his head, he went to the sink and washed the cut.

"Rich, what were you-?" Virgil saw the blood on the cutting board and rushed to Richie's side. "Geez, Rich, and you were worried about me working with the knife?"

Richie grimaced at him. "That's what I get for talking to you while I'm working. You're a dangerous distraction. Get me a Band-Aid."

When he'd cleaned and bandaged the small cut, Richie returned to the cutting board, washed away the blood, and finished off the meat. Virgil hovered at his elbow the entire time and Richie had to laugh. "I'm not going to do something stupid twice in one night, V. Did you even measure the olive oil yet?"

Virgil waited until Richie washed the knife and put it in the sink before he would consent to leave his boyfriend's side and find a measuring cup. And as they finished the rest of the dinner preparations, he kept his eye on Richie. The blonde sometimes blushed, but mostly he just smiled and returned Virgil's attention with teasing eyes.

oOo

The suitcase sat open on his bed. It was little more than a duffle bag, really, because flying with a real, fully-loaded suitcase would be out of the question. Two days of underwear went into the bottom along with a paperback copy of _Bard. _Richie grinned. _Yeah, so a science-nut like me shouldn't like to read about ancient Ireland, but I can't help it. And if this two-day conference turns out to be a snore, I'll want something to keep me awake. Besides, BP and I can use the opportunity to talk about what in the story, if anything, is backed up by fact. It would really fun if everything except the magic was real. All the historical stuff, in other words._

Socks and T-shirts joined the underwear. Next went a spare costume.

_I'm just lucky they invited Gear and not Richie Foley. This means I can take BP and not have to hide him. _At first, when Richie had received the letter, which had been delivered to the city of Dakota and forwarded to him by the mayor- _in person; now that was embarrassing- _he'd checked it ten different ways, just to make sure it was legit. Then he'd emailed Robin and found out that while he hadn't been invited, Cyborg had, and they'd run about a hundred checks on it, including having Batman look into it. It was on the up and up, and might even be interesting. It was on the link between man and machine; a university in Gotham was showing off their new hardware and software and wanted to discuss it with some of the biggies in the industry- companies and superheroes alike.

Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, soap, shampoo, razor (not that he expected his few chin-hairs to be a problem, but hey, it might make a good weapon if a weapon was needed)… _Anything else? Oh, yeah- lube. _Richie grinned at the little high he got from pretending that Backpack's emergency oil for badly-moving joints was something cherry or vanilla flavored for Virgil. _Someday, _he thought, and his grin broadened as he tucked the oil away. On top of these last few things went an extra, collapsible helmet. Again, just in case.

Richie zipped the bag and slipped it over his shoulder. Now, to get to the gas station and change. But first… Richie walked downstairs, and saw the Hawkins family waiting for him. Virgil was standing at the bottom of the stairs, Sharon was on the couch and Mr. H was hovering near the arm chair, not quite sitting. Virgil knew where Richie was going, so did the other two: they just didn't know how he was going, or what he would be wearing. Richie's eyes shone as he looked at his family waiting to see him off. Virgil would be walking him to the "bus stop," but Mr. H had to get to the community center and Sharon had classes. In truth, Virgil had to go to school, but he was being excused from the first two by a note from his Pops. By this Richie knew that Mr. H loved his foster son and he grinned to himself.

_And me? Why am I getting to skip school? _Simple; Bruce Wayne had written a note, even though he wasn't involved in the seminar.

Virgil took Richie in his arms for only a moment when Richie was standing in front of the door. The two of them would be walking together, but it didn't matter; Virgil would always seize any opportunity to hold his boyfriend. Then he turned Richie and pushed him gently towards his pops.

Richie blinked. He'd never been hugged by Virgil's father. His moms had hugged him many times, but he hadn't thought…

Robert smiled and opened his arms. "You're my son. I always send my children away with a hug. I'll do it when they're thirty."

Blushing, grinning, blinking rapidly, Richie allowed himself to be drawn against the other man's chest. He closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the feeling of being so unquestionably loved. _Someday this will all stop being a surprise to me. _He wasn't looking forward to that day, but it would keep him from getting so pink all the time.

When Robert stepped back, Sharon stood. She gazed at Richie from the other side of the couch, then stalked around to his side. She tousled his hair, then gave him a quick hug. "Be careful, don't talk to strangers and don't eat the meat. Mad cow's on the rise again." She smiled at him, then grabbed her school things and left, closing the door behind her.

"Dang," Virgil commented, staring at the door. "If that was Sharon, I think we'd better check her room for a chemistry set. Because Mr. Hyde usually walks out that door, but she changed into Dr. Jekyll just for you, Rich."

"Virgil…" Robert warned as Richie tried to keep from laughing.

"Sorry, Pops." Virgil glanced over his shoulder and offered a half-convincing apologetic smile. "Come on, Rich; we'd better get started. We don't want you to miss the bus."

Richie smiled at Robert, the mustered up the courage to say, "Bye, Pops." When he and Virgil were outside, he glanced at his boyfriend to see if Virgil was going to say anything about his words, but Virgil was just smiling. _So he's okay with that. _Richie's grin widened, then he let it drop so he wouldn't look half so insane and moved a little closer to Virgil so their arms brushed.

"You'll be back Sunday night, right?" Virgil asked.

Richie nodded. "Yeah. At about eight. I'll drop by the station to change, then you can pretend to meet me at the bus stop and we'll walk home together."

Virgil nodded, seeming lost in his own thoughts.

"Virg? You okay?"

The taller teen paused, then said, glancing at Richie quickly before looking away again, "Do you remember when I said I would tell you about what happened when I went to the future?"

"Yes."

"Well, it was weird at first because Batman- the new Batman- didn't like me at first and I didn't like him, either." He saw Richie's surprise and grinned a little. "He was a little older than us, but not much. His name was Terry and he was Batman's replacement, even though he went to Batman for answers a lot of times. But working with a new Batman made sense since the one we know now was old. What was weird was… I had a son." He swallowed. "Does that mean I won't still be with you? I know you said the future changes all the time, but I couldn't imagine leaving you. And since I was sent to the future _after_ falling in love with you, does that mean I could fall _out of love_ with you?"

"Who says you did?" Richie asked. "Maybe your son was adopted. Maybe we adopted him." He had thought of another possibility, but wasn't sure if he wanted to share it with Virgil.

In early July, Richie had dreamed an invention that had followed him out of his dreams and kept him up for two days working at his desk with paper and pencil after pencil. _Nothing short, I dreamed I was pregnant with V's baby because of the miracles of science. So maybe the reason I was fat in the future wasn't because I'd eaten too much, but because I was pregnant._ Shaking his head, Richie knew he wasn't ready to discuss any such thing with Virgil. _Not only because I'm not sure what he would think, but because I'm not sure what _I _think._

Virgil was grinning. "Have I said you're a genius lately, Richie? Well, you are, and I love you." He put his arm around Richie's shoulders and they continued to walk like that. "You're probably right. And the future isn't set in stone, anyway, so whatever happened can be changed."

Richie smiled, setting his dream aside, even though the dream was just as vivid now as it had been when he was dreaming it.

Ten minutes later, the two of them entered the gas station and Virgil watched Richie become Gear. Backpack, who had slipped into the station late the night before, climbed onto Richie's back. When Richie was ready to take off, his duffle bag slung over one shoulder, Virgil held open his arms and Richie returned the embrace.

"Be careful," Virgil said softly. "Dr. Jekyll knew that much."

"I will be."

Virgil looked at Backpack and decided he needed to ask, even though he knew Backpack would do it anyway. "Watch out for Richie, okay?"

"I will, Virgil. Don't be concerned. The journey is short, the conference is legitimate and no one will hurt Richie. I promise."

Richie blushed, then laughed. "All right, you two. I'm still here, listening to all this." He squeezed Virgil's hand, then patted Backpack's arm. "I'd better get going. We're supposed to all report in by eleven."

Virgil glanced at his watch. Twenty after seven. "Think you'll make it?"

"There's no head wind and my rockets are fully charged. Yeah, I'll make it." Richie hugged Virgil again. "I can't exactly kiss you, but just pretend, okay? I'll call you tonight."

Virgil followed Richie outside. He had to say it one more time. "Be careful, Gear. I'll see you when you get back."

His partner smiled at him. "I'll be all right. Don't worry about me." With a final wave, he took off.

Virgil watched him until he had disappeared, then, sighing, trudged off to school. _Hope I can stay awake in English._

oOo

They had only been in the air for five minutes when Backpack's alarm went off and he said urgently in Richie's mind, _We are being followed. A large craft surrounded by a damping field is just to our east, behind the building we are passing._

Richie made a quick course correction, doubling back on himself before asking, _Are you sure they're following us? _He knew to trust to Backpack's instincts, follow them, then ask questions. It had saved his life before, and Backpack's, too. And even sometimes, when Backpack was wrong, Richie knew he would rather be cautious than hurt or dead.

_They are tracking us, at the very least. I was able to tap into their radar system. While they notice other things besides, we are at the center of their attention._

Richie nodded. He really hadn't expected Backpack to be wrong, but… _I hoped. _He flew behind a building and then among a set of power lines, trusting Backpack's navigation to keep him safe. The electricity might confuse the radar. _Next invention, _he promised his friend, _radar-confusing hardware._

_That will be quite easy to- Richie! Drop!_

Richie at once went to half-power on his skates and fell out of the sky. Something large passed just over his head and Richie turned his descent into a dive, flying as fast as he could away from the pursuing ships.

Now there were three instead of just the one.

_They are partially cloaked from my sensors, _Backpack announced.

_Splendid. See if you can raise Virg, Batman or the J League on the comm.._ Richie turned sideways and flew down an alleyway, ducking under some fire escapes and flying amidst others. One of his pursuers crashed into the metal railings and crash-landed below. Richie didn't look back.

_Richie, my signal is being jammed. _

Richie was headed for a park. Maybe he could lose them among the people. _If I can just find a place to drop down and change… Try tapping into the Shock Vox. That has ten frequencies._

_Yes, Richie._

All thoughts of who might be chasing him and why didn't so much as enter Richie's mind. He'd find out if he got caught, and if he didn't, Backpack had seen what they looked like and the two of them could run a search either from Gotham or the safety of the gas station.

Richie spotted a bridge and thought maybe he could dive under there and hide among the maze of supports long enough to change. _I'll have to stow the duffle bag; they've seen me with it._

_Richie-_

Two sleek craft approached Richie, one from each direction. He thought to fly down, but saw another craft approaching from below. And it was no good to fly up because he'd flown under a tangle of trees; he couldn't hope to escape that way.

Richie hurled a Zap Cap at one of the ships; the Cap struck and the ship abruptly lost power. But something whizzed past Richie's ear and he turned in that direction, thinking to fend off whatever it was.

_Tranquilizer, _Backpack said. Then, after a moment, _Richie, something-_ and Backpack promptly fell silent in Richie's mind. He still clung to Richie's back, but that was more due to programming than consciousness.

Richie felt the sudden absence of Backpack as a physical blow and when he threw the next Zap Cap, it went wide. He tried to retreat in the direction of the craft he'd knocked down, but another had taken its place. Correction: _two_ more. _Where are they all coming from and what do they want?_

It was still a useless question, unimportant at the moment, but Richie couldn't help it. He hurled another Zap Cap; this one hit its mark, but Richie wasn't able to see it connect. Something hard was jammed into his right side. For an instant, the world swam before his eyes and he tried to call to Backpack. Then everything went dark.

oOo

"Please…"

The shoulders under his hands tensed. "No." A pale hand reached back and brushed at his fingers. "Don't ask me again. I love Virgil and there's no way in hell I would ever leave him."

"I'm not asking you to leave him. I love him, too." Hotstreak glanced at the mirror to gauge Richie's reaction. But the blonde's expression was blank. Resolved not to give up, Hotstreak resumed his gentle massage and waited for Richie to understand how much Hotstreak really loved him. After all, Richie could pull away, and he wasn't. That had to mean something.

"Virg would never go for it." Richie reached up and took off his glasses. Rubbing at his eyes, he said, "Please don't do this to me. I love him and I can't lose him."

"What if I promised you wouldn't lose him? What if I promised he would accept us, all three of us, being together?" Hotstreak leaned closer and kissed Richie's cheek, then rubbed against him, skin to skin. Richie smelled of a soap Hotstreak had always associated with his Aunt Sue. It was a strange smell for a man to be wearing: slightly vanilla and slightly minty, but it comforted Hotstreak at once and he didn't find it the least bit strange.

"You can't promise something like that." Richie was still rubbing his eyes and now Hotstreak realized that younger teen was trying not to cry.

"Please, Richie, I don't want to hurt you. I just wanted you to know how I feel. I want you to know that I'm here for you and I love you. And if you can't be with me, I understand. But I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

Richie turned in the small chair that had been placed in front of the mirror. His eyes were red and he squinted up at Hotstreak. Making no move to retrieve his glasses, he stood instead and buried his face in Hotstreak's chest. "I can't leave him," he whispered. "He's the only one that wants me. He's the only one who will ever touch me."

Hotstreak blinked and took a step back. "Richie, what did you say?"

Richie was crying outright now. "He's the only one that will ever touch me, will ever love me. And it's okay if I'm his whore because-"

Hotstreak groaned and rolled over in his sleep. The dream faded and changed. And once one dream started, he forgot the one before.

Static stood between Ebon and Richie, his hands filled with electric fire. Around them, shadows leapt up the walls of the alleyway, climbing the bricks as if they were trying to escape. Hotstreak glanced up, and saw Carmen Dillo, Slipstream and Ferret staring down at the confrontation in the alley.

_They're like vultures, _he thought, _ready to jump on whoever's left._ He looked back at Richie, and wondered for the first time why the blonde wasn't in costume. He was huddled amid piles of garbage, his face bruised and his eyes wild. One of the lenses of his glasses was broken in a starburst pattern. Hotstreak, unnoticed by the others, took a step towards the blonde, his hand outstretched. He opened his mouth to reassure Richie, but then he caught sight of Richie's bare chest. Lash-marks and bruises covered the fair skin, and blood was running from a cut close to his throat. _Someone tried to kill him! _

"Richie!" Hotstreak dropped to one knee at the teen's side and tried to take his hand. Richie flinched away and whimpered.

Static turned towards him, his eyes full of concern. He didn't seem to see Hotstreak. "It's okay, Rich; I'm here. It's-"

Ebon slammed into Static, drowning him in shadow. A moment later- too short a time, Hotstreak knew, and yet he didn't question what he was seeing- Ebon backed away and dropped Static. The superhero was dead.

Ebon moved towards Richie, purring, "Come here, Whore. You belong to me."

Richie screamed and tried to jump up to run, but Ebon caught him and dragged him close, caressing his bare back. Glancing over Richie's shoulder, the living shadow said, "Thank you for giving me the picture, Hotstreak. He's just as I imagined." A vortex formed under Ebon's feet. "Tell Batman Richie's mine now."

Sweating, Hotstreak beat at his pillow and cried out. Still he couldn't wake up.

Two warm bodies were pressed against him, and Hotstreak found that his chest was being used as a pillow by two smaller people. He opened his eyes and blinked at the sunlight trickling through the broken window to his left. Squinting, he glanced down and saw the black dread locks lying against his pale skin and against another boy's cocoa-rich color. Gasping, Hotstreak drew Virgil closer to him, noticing that the superhero wore a white T-shirt and midnight-blue boxers. Hotstreak hardened as he thought of what lay beneath those boxers. _My electric god, _he thought, grinning and burying his nose in Virgil's hair. _You're beautiful when you're asleep._

Something thumped downstairs and Hotstreak turned his head towards the bedroom door. Only then did he realize that he'd been in this room before. Except now the room was clean; there wasn't a shred of paper on the floor. Well, except for one picture… Framed, blown up, and hanging on the far wall, was a copy of the picture Hotstreak had given to Ebon. The only difference here was that Richie seemed to be looking right at him.

Hotstreak moaned as the thump was repeated downstairs. Then he felt the body on his other side stir, and he looked down, meeting Richie's sleepy gaze.

"What's wrong?" Richie asked, reaching up and touching Hotstreak's cheek. He smiled slightly. "Did you dream I doused you with water balloons again?"

Hotstreak glanced towards the picture again, but it was gone. Instead, a photograph of himself, Richie and Virgil hung there. Shaking his head, Hotstreak wondered how he could have ever thought it was really the picture he'd given to Ebon. Why in the name of all things good would they ever hang _that_ picture up? Besides which, how could they have gotten it back from Ebon?

Looking back down at Richie, he answered, "No. It was… nothing."

Richie sighed and snuggled closer. "I'm not ordering you to tell me, but… I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you."

Virgil yawned and stretched. He reached across Hotstreak's bare chest and cupped Richie's cheek. The blonde raised his head and smiled. Returning the smile, Virgil intertwined his fingers with Richie's and brought their joined hands to rest on Hotstreak's chest. They both looked up at Hotstreak expectantly, so he placed one of his hands atop theirs.

The thump was repeated downstairs, followed by the sound of splintering wood.

In an instant, Virgil and Richie were up. As one, they started for the closet where they hid their superhero costumes. Hotstreak was just struggling into a pair of pants when the bedroom door burst open. Virgil slammed the closer door closed and stood with his back to it. Meanwhile, Richie had retreated to the nightstand. He grabbed his glasses and fumbled them on. With part of his mind that wasn't occupied with the intruder, Hotstreak noted that Richie was wearing a pale blue T-shirt and blue boxers that had little flames and little lightning bolts on them.

Then Sean Foley filled the doorway and Hotstreak kindled flames in his hands. Or tried to, at least. He couldn't ignite. Glancing at Virgil, he wondered if the teen would charge up to save Richie. _Of course he will; he's Virgil._

Richie's father raised a gun in shaking hands. "Get away from that nigger, Richie. Don't let him control you anymore." He took a step into the room and pointed the gun at Virgil. "Obey me. It's the only way you'll save him."

Hotstreak thought maybe he could kick the gun out of the man's hand before he got off a shot, but _maybe_ wasn't good enough.

Virgil held out his hands like he was trying to use his powers, but nothing happened.

Ebon put a tiny bit of pressure on the trigger.

_Ebon? We were dealing with Foley, Sr. a moment ago!_ Hotstreak thought, confused and lost.

"He's my whore, Static. Yeah, I know who you are. And I know that my precious Gear and my little whore Richie are one and the same." He raised the gun a little more. "Beg me for your life, hero."

With an inarticulate cry of fury, Richie leapt across the distance, slamming into Ebon full force. He knocked the gun out of Ebon's hand, but Ebon wasn't solid. In an instant, Richie was stuck him as if he was a tar baby. Ebon laughed and disappeared, taking Richie with him.

But when he was gone, Hotstreak saw that Sean Foley was still there. Without a word, the man, somehow still holding his gun, fired twice at Virgil.

oOo

Hotstreak didn't log on at three o'clock that morning to watch the anger-management talk. He logged on to talk. Thoughts of being traced didn't bother him; neither did worries about exposing himself and letting everyone know his business. He was past caring what Ebon might do if he found out Hotstreak went for help. Even though he couldn't remember exactly what he'd dreamed, he knew it had been at least one nightmare, and maybe more. And it had something to do with losing Richie and Virgil.

_And besides, it's not help I'm looking for, _he kept telling himself. _I just don't want to keep this to myself anymore and maybe someone who knows Richie and Virgil better than I do can tell me about them._

His luck was in. Only one person was signed on and it was Knight. _I can't wait. I have to do this now before he logs off. _Hotstreak typed:

FHS: Nightwing, I want to talk. I'm here for your vaunted counseling services.

Knight: Who are you?

FHS: You're probably tracking me, but you won't be able to find out where I am. I'll tell you who I am in a minute, but let me say first that I've been spying on you guys for weeks. You need to get better security.

Knight: So why are you revealing yourself now?

FHS: Like I said, I need you to counsel me.

Knight: And why should I help you?

FHS: Because I've got questions about people you care about, and if you don't help me I might do something drastic.

Knight: So you're threatening my friends. That's a mistake.

_Damn! I didn't mean it like that! _He began to type again before he could lose his nerve.

FHS: I wouldn't hurt Richie or Virgil for the world. It's just that I might do something wrong and get them in trouble. I don't want that, you don't want that. Let's work together.

Knight: You have my attention. And you have my promise that I won't tell anyone about this conversation unless you tell me you're planning to kill someone.

_He sounds like the counselor I had in sixth grade. 'What we talk about in our meetings is completely confidential, Francis, unless you tell me one of three things. One, you're planning to hurt someone. Two, you're planning to hurt yourself. Three, someone is hurting you.' And just like I trusted Mr. LaFave, I think I can trust Nightwing._

FHS: Okay. I'm Hotstreak.

Knight: Well… I've heard of you but I've never met you. So what do you want to tell me?

FHS: How well do you know Richie?

Knight: If you've really been reading our online exchanges for weeks, you can answer that for yourself.

FHS: I meant, do you know him off-line?

Knight: You know, for a high school drop-out, you type really well.

FHS: My aunt taught me.

_Why the hell did I tell him that?_

FHS: And you type really well for someone the Batman kicked out.

Knight: Nice comeback, Hot-Head. Are you going to tell me what's on that hotplate that passes for your mind or am I just wasting my time?

FHS: Stick it. I need your help, or I'd tell you to do worse than that. It's simple, Bat-Boy: I love Richie and Virgil and I can't tell them. What do I do?

Knight: Dear Batty, I'm in love with a superhero team and I'm a known criminal. Signed, Dummy from Dakota. Dear Dummy, What can you do besides either talk to them or not say anything? It's your choice. Now, as to how to talk to them, maybe I can help you there, but first you have to decide what you're going to do. No one can make that decision for you. There's just one thing I want you to know.

Hotstreak was so shocked that Nightwing was going to help him that he didn't register that he was supposed to answer at first. Then he swallowed, pulled himself together and typed:

FHS: I want to tell them. But I don't think they want me. They have each other already and they've been so close for so long.

Knight: First, get rid of the defeatist attitude. That'll make sure you don't make it with them. Second, tell me what you know about Richie.

FHS: Why?

Knight: I'm just curious if you know anything besides his identity. Oh, and I know all about your little run-in at the hospital. I also know you tried to barbeque him a few days ago when the two of you were in a junk yard.

FHS: I knew he was going to dodge it!

Knight: Whatever. What do you know about him?

FHS: I know he was abused by his father. I know he got through a trial by having Gear testify that he, Richie, was really being abused.

Knight: You could have gotten that from the Dakota Herald. Tell me something that wasn't in the papers.

FHS: Richie and I agreed that if he didn't tell anyone besides Virgil about me saving his life in the hospital that I wouldn't tell anyone about him being Gear. And I haven't. Slipstream knows, and what he does with the information is his own business, but Ebon hasn't learned from me.

Knight: And this is supposed to prove that you're full of good intentions?

FHS: I am full of good intentions, Bat-Boy. I just can't always follow them, or I get them confused. I'm new at this whole love thing, okay? And I'm new at not wanting to fry Static and beat the shit out of Virgil. I don't understand why I love them, except that I do. And I want to tell them. I can't tell you anything about Richie that you'll trust. I love him. I led Virgil to him because I didn't want Richie to become Ebon's whore. I've stayed out of their way as much as possible because I love them and I don't want to have to fight them. But I get stir-crazy, and that's why I joined up with Ebon again. For that and other reasons, but those are none of your business. Are you going to help me or what?

Knight: Yes, but you need to understand one thing: if you hurt Richie or Virgil in any way, not only will I hunt you down, but so will the Teen Titans, Batman, the entire Justice League and a few less savory friends of mine. And I'm not just talking about physical pain. If Richie tells me you made him feel terrible

FHS: I get it. And I'm not worried. I wouldn't do anything to hurt him. Richie's suffered enough to qualify as a war survivor. Even if I was still a shit bent on causing as many problems as possible in a short time, I wouldn't hurt Richie. That would just be too much like seeing a baby shivering on a street corner and throwing it in front of a speeding car.

Knight: You have a way with words, disturbing as they might be. My advice is that you talk to Richie first. He's the more receptive of the two. If he's interested, he'll talk to Virgil, then the three of you can talk. If he isn't, he'll tell you to go away, and you'd better listen to him. No harassment, now. Understood?

FHS: But how do I talk to him? What do I say? 'Hey, Richie, I love you and I just wanted you to know it' doesn't work somehow.

Knight: I'm not sure how to word it, but you need to be honest with Richie. Don't try to bully him into anything and don't try to con him. Tell him what you really feel, and tell him without insulting him or pressing him or doing whatever it is you do to get on everyone's nerves.

FHS: Oh this is just so great. It's just so perfect. I don't really know what to do, and all you can tell me is to approach Richie first. Thanks a hell of a lot. How am I even going to get him alone? They're attached at the hip.

Knight: That's your problem. First, I'd make sure you really love Richie. That's more important than anything else right now because Richie is being protected by some of the strongest, most dangerous superheroes in the galaxy. Trust me: you don't want to tick these people off.

FHS: I won't. I told you: I love Richie. I'd rather get my own hand chopped off than hurt him.

Knight: And what about Virgil? Are you sure you love him, too, or is it just that he's attached to Richie?

FHS: You fucking shit how can you even suggest that? If I knew where you were, I'd burn your building down and hope you got roasted!

Knight: Just answer the question.

FHS: You're a son of a bitch. I know I love Virgil, but it's just easier to talk about Richie because I understand my love for him better. He's a puppy I want to take care of, but he's also so strong that I can't imagine treating him like glass. Like a puppy, he'd get into trouble and discover things for himself. I'd be there if he needed me, but I wouldn't stop him from learning things on his own.

Knight: You and Virgil should start a Richie-as-Puppy fan club. On second thought, maybe you should talk to Virgil first. Even if you can't explain how you love him, at least you could convince him that you love Richie like he does. Maybe that would be a better way to get the two of you to understand each other. Sometimes understanding and friendship is a better way to start a relationship. You'd have an easier time making a relationship with Richie by confessing your love, but you might have to convince Virgil that you can be trusted and that you care for Richie before he'll let you get close.

Knight: Hotstreak? You still there?

FHS: Yeah. I'll think about this.

_FHS has logged off._

_FHS has logged on._

FHS: Thanks.

Knight: Don't mention it. And I won't either. What happens now is up to you.

Knight: Hotstreak?

FHS: Yeah?

Knight: You have a lot of guts.

_Knight has logged off._

_FHS has logged off._

_But what am I going to do? I bet Bat-Boy never had trouble getting someone to fall in love with him and listen to him. _Hotstreak groaned and stood after shutting off the computer. There was only one thing to do at times like this:

Go for a drive.

Not that he had a car, but when had that ever stopped him before? Grinning, deciding to forget everything for a little while, Hotstreak left the underground room and headed up to the street.

_And if Static and Gear just happen to show up to stop me, maybe I'll get the chance I wanted. _Ignoring the butterflies that thought caused in his stomach, Hotstreak went car-hunting.

oOo

Backpack couldn't hear. He couldn't see. He couldn't sense anything. It was like being damaged again, except every connection inside worked. Every one, that is, except the one that most mattered. His connection to Richie was dead.

Tracing the functioning circuits outwards, Backpack discovered quickly that the problem wasn't with his system, but with what was blocking his system. A series of coded transmitters had thrown a blanket over his perceptions. It was a blanket designed to prevent access to his outward sensors. That wasn't so hard to do, if one knew about his technology, or guessed. But The blanket had broken his mental connection to Richie, and Backpack hadn't thought that anyone _besides_ Richie knew about the possibility of a connection between man and machine.

The possibilities filled him with silent, cold horror.

_Who could have this technology and what do they want with Richie? _Then Backpack reconsidered. _Or is it me they want? Have they taken me and left Richie alone somewhere? _Fear that he had been separated _again_ from the only person he cared about nearly sent Backpack into panic. But then the voice of logic- it sounded enough like Gear's voice to make Backpack nervous- spoke up in his mind.

_Think. They were prepared for your system, yes, but they must have also been prepared for Richie's connection to you. That in itself doesn't mean they aren't after you, but they need both of you to trace the connection and learn about it. Therefore, you are still with Richie. And even if you aren't, what are you going to accomplish by losing your senses? Nothing. Do a diagnostic. Not only will it confirm that all of your systems are running perfectly and pass some time, but you'll also learn if there are leaks or holes in the "blanket" that's been thrown over you. Just as no human is perfect, no machine is perfect._

Backpack collected himself and began to run the diagnostic. _You're not Richie, but you're not me, either._

_Gear came partially from the division of Richie's mind and the affect of your connection with Richie. Why do you think he knew how to fight you sometimes? And no, I'm not him; I'm you. In fact, I'm not even an "I." You're talking to yourself. Get to work._

oOo

Adam decided he was never going to go bouncing about after dark without telling Sharon where he was. She knew he went out and patrolled, but she didn't know that he'd gone out late last night and been captured. At first, riding around in the giant ship had been more of a pain in the ass than anything else. He was chained to the side of the ship, and some humming lights were restricting his powers, and he had no idea where he was begin taken or why, but at least he was only worried about himself.

Then the giant ship had settled down in a field outside Dakota and taken on another passenger. Adam had watched the flying crafts approach from the direction of the city as the day started to march past early morning into the reasonable hour when most people were just getting to work. _It's Friday, _he kept telling himself. _It's Friday, and Sharon will start to worry about me if I don't show up for lunch._ He hoped she would call the police, not that he thought they could do much good. But Static or Gear would pick up on the police band and maybe they'd start looking for him.

_I know I wasn't much help when they went missing a few months back, but I tried. I just hope they're better at detective work than I am._

One of the flying things- they reminded him of the ships the Storm Troopers flew on Endor. _I think that was the third Star Wars movie- Episode VI._ As he watched the guy in the ugly, long-nosed helmet get off his little ship, Adam realized it didn't matter. The man was carrying Gear.

_Shit. _Adam backed up as the door was opened and the man, accompanied by other guards, approached Adam. They unchained Adam and chained him to Gear before he could even think of escaping. _Not that I would leave now, _Adam thought, not liking the way Gear was scarcely breathing.

When the guards were done, they shut the doors. Adam was now chained to Gear, but not to the side of the ship anymore. _Maybe we can escape together when they open the door again, _he thought, sitting down beside Gear as the ship took off.

As he looked at Gear, he felt his chest tighten. Static could be a pain in the ass, but not Gear. Gear… he'd always seemed approachable, likeable, not full of himself like Static could be sometimes. _Static's better now for the most part, but Gear… It's not just that he was never a pain in the ass. There's something about him that makes me want to protect him. He seems so fragile. Maybe because his power is his mind and if his inventions failed, he would be powerless._ Not questioning his urge, Adam drew Gear's head into his lap as the ship continued in the direction it had been going- away from the city.

_Well, at least there's one thing, _Adam thought, sighing as he made himself as comfortable as he could. _If Gear's missing, too, Static won't be far behind. And hopefully he'll have the sense to tell the Justice League._

oOo

Virgil punched in the numbers for Frieda's private line. Lucky girl. Virgil couldn't imagine ever asking his pops for his own phone. He _did_ have his own walkie-talkie, but that just wasn't the same. He held the phone with his powers, not really touching it.

The phone only rang once before Frieda picked up. _Girls are always practically sitting on these things, _Virgil thought. He grinned, admitting to himself that when he'd been separated from Richie, he'd been the same way. Sharon had even teased him about it. _And normally I'd be like that now, except I don't think the conference is over for the day until after ten. Richie won't call til then, so I'm safe. And he'll call on the Vox, anyway; it's less traceable. If 'Gear's' at a conference, then he shouldn't be making a call to Virgil Hawkins, should he? Static, sure; that makes sense. Some nameless kid? Never._

"Hello?" Frieda asked.

"Hey, Frieda. It's Virgil."

"Hey. Am I on speaker phone?"

"No, why?" _As if I even _have_ something like that._

"There's a lot of static."

_Oops. _Virgil put the phone in his hand. "Sorry." He'd been lounging back on his bed, just staring off into space. Now he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. If Frieda and Daisy weren't busy, maybe he'd find a way to pass a few hours with them. "So, what are you and Daisy up to tonight?"

"Just hangin'. Why don't you come by?"

Virgil grinned. _Score! _"Cool. I'll bring over a movie. Something scary." He and Richie had developed a short list of movies that had made even them jump, and Virgil's grin turned wicked as he imagined terrifying Daisy and Frieda with the likes of _The Village _(which was creepy enough in the beginning, at least).

"Actually," Frieda answered, warming to her subject as she went, "I'm giving Daisy a haircut. Then we're doing our nails. Then we're making candles!"

_Exclamation point included, _Virgil thought, sighing inwardly. "Maybe I'll take a rain check"

He could hear the shrug in Frieda's voice. "Your loss. Why don't you call Richie?"

Everyone at school knew about him and Richie; if they hadn't' before, they knew now, thanks to the school article. But Frieda liked to tease Virgil about his love life, especially since she knew full well he'd had a crush on her once. Virgil forestalled here, not wanting to have to listen to make suggestions on how exactly he and Richie could entertain each other. _She may be Jewish, but a lot of the stuff she thinks up is definitely _not_ kosher. _"He'll be gone all weekend. There's gotta be someone to hang with."

Frieda's comment made Virgil remember that nobody actually knew about Richie's new living arrangements. His Pops, the Corbetts and the judge had agreed that it was best if as few people as possible knew where Richie was living. Frieda wouldn't have told anyone, and neither would Daisy, but this wasn't the time to explain things to them. An alarm blared outside Virgil's window. Instinctively, Virgil turned his head in that direction. _Well, here's a way to spend some of my time. I hope whatever this is takes at least two hours to fix. _

Grinning, Virgil said, "Gotta go, Frieda. I think I just found a playmate." Normally he wouldn't have said something like that- her mind would jump to a certain kind of play Virgil didn't want to discuss with anyone but a certain blonde- and he knew he would probably hear about the choice of words later, but at that moment, it didn't matter. He hung up.

Two minutes later, he was flying towards the sound of the alarm. When he saw the broken glass of the showroom, he knew someone had stolen a car. And since the showroom was a pretty ritzy one, that someone had stolen an expensive car. Virgil listened for a moment, then headed in the direction of squealing breaks. _Why is it that car thieves are never good drivers?_

oOo

"Whoo-wee!" he crowed, wanting to let the whole world know he was enjoying himself. Now this is what I call I hot car!"

Hotstreak wove in and out of the traffic, his only regret that he'd taken a car without a sunroof. _Oh well. It's yellow, it's fast, it handles like a dream, and it's loud. Who could ask for better?_

Better came cruising up on left side just as he passed between two other cars.

"Coincidentally, this is also what the police call a hot car," Static said.

"Static?" _Yes! Yes! Yes! I got him! He's here! _Hotstreak glanced around. _And Gear's not. Maybe this is just the chance I was looking for. _But first, he wasn't going to let Static catch him without a good chase. That would be too easy. "Can't a guy even go for a joy ride anymore?"

"Sure. Drop you off at County Lock-up?"

_In your dreams, Sparky. _Hotstreak scowled, then smiled to himself as he shifted into a higher gear. _Let's see if you can play follow the leader. I'm the best there is when it comes to driving fast. _He made a U-turn right in front of a large truck and headed the other way, speeding down an alley. He heard the truck's horn blare behind him and hoped Static had moved in time. _Of course he did. He's no amateur on that disk of his, either. _He glanced back, just to make sure, and ran into a line of trash cans. _Oh well. At least I'll give him the added challenge of dodging a few flying cans. _He'd seen Static following him and now Hotstreak just focused on continuing the chase as long as possible.

Only to have Static cheat by grabbing the car with his powers.

_Oh come on! I remember when even throwing a few things was a challenge for you! _Then again, Hotstreak had to admit that he, too, was getting stronger. His flames were going further when he threw them, and he was now able to use his command of fire and its reaction to air around it to fly.

When Static pulled the car to a half, Hotstreak rolled out of it like a king-fu fighter rolling out of a throw. He came up with flames already in his hands. "Who asked you to butt in?" he demanded, grinning inside as he watched Static dodge his blasts of fire. He felt a thrill of electricity prickle over his back as Static dive-bombed him. With barley a trace of annoyance in his voice (could Static hear that he wasn't really angry, just enjoying himself?) Hotstreak shouted, "I'm really starting to lose my temper." He ignited both his hands and his feet and stood facing Static.

_I don't know how long this is going to go on, but I'm not going to confess myself out here. There are witnesses. True, most of them are running, so maybe soon it'll be okay. But not just-_

He looked up, startled at the sound of engines hovering above him. Maybe he'd discounted Gear's presence too quickly.

_Gear knew flew one of those. _Hotstreak gazed in fascination at the tiny air scooters above him. They dropped lines down and armed and helmeted men that looked like they belonged to some army, slithered to the ground. He made the same connection Adam had: _They look like green Storm Troopers._

Then the nearest man held up a rod that looked like a metal toilet paper roll- and stuck Hotstreak in the back with it.

The sensation wasn't unlike being shocked by Static- expect that he had no defense against the current that ran through him. As he slipped into unconsciousness, thinking that the men were probably part of some new police force, he regretted that he hadn't been able to talk to Static. _Now I'll go to jail and… _Hotstreak passed out.

o------------------------------------------------o

tbc…

**A/N3:** I don't like pleading, but… Will you please review if you've read this thing? This does not apply to any of my regular reviewers or the one who have legitimate excuses because of Internet issues. But to the rest of you: **PLEASE?**

**MsManga:** Thank you for the review. Well, nothing keeps Hotstreak down for long, though I'm sorry he had to go through nightmares to remember that he loves Richie and Virgil. Richie reminds me (and is partially modeled after) this gay guy I knew who was always supportive of other people, no matter what he was going through.

**Tristripe:** Hey! I missed you, girl! Yeah, Richie noticed Hotstreak's issue, even if he doesn't understand it. He's an observant soul like that. Take care of yourself.

**Saturn's Hikari:** I'm glad you're enjoying it. I have a question: what's a hikari? Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed the time travel bit. I read a really good description of time travel (explained by Richie) on somewhere, and I want to say thank you to that author for giving me an idea of how it might work. Was that you?

**Moonjava:** Thank you for the praise. I like the last line, too, though I'm reluctant to end a chapter like that. It seems… weird. Like that after-school special Virgil and Richie have talked about. 


	16. Chapter 6: Oct on Alva's Island

**A/N:** Hi everybody. I'm so sorry it took me so long with this one. But I had to do mounds of research on this episode, so it took a lot longer to write. I didn't just want dialogue, but expression, gestures, all those sorts of things. The next chapter shouldn't take so long.

**A/N2:** A reviewer wrote to me and asked if I was ever going to finish this thing. I will. I can't imagine dropping this. Please believe that "The Miracle of Three" will have an end someday. I'm hoping to end it before Christmas, but I don't know yet.

**A/N3:** I've been told that we aren't supposed to actually address specific reviewers in the chapter. I'm going to find out if that's true. But for those of you who left an email address or a signed review, I'll get back to you that way.

Chapter Six: October: On Alva's Island

Chapter Six: October: On Alva's Island

Richie came awake much as he had in Ebon's hidden room: with a sense of being where he shouldn't be. First, he listened, hoping he was alone. The soft breathing of someone nearby told him he wouldn't have a chance to figure out his surroundings in peace. The moment he opened his eyes, he would have to engage with whoever was sitting close to him. Probably one of the guards from the flying things. He heard the buzzing of the lights and wondered what they were. And eh felt the rumble of a motor under him somewhere. _We've been captured and we're being flown away. _Assuming of course that he wasn't still alone in his mind. _BP? Can you hear me?_

There was no answer, confirming what Richie had already suspected. He was alone, even if BP was still on his back. _Maybe he's even awake and we just can't communicate. I'll have to depend on him to rebuild the connection. I need to know where I am and who's with me._

The first thing Richie saw was a dark purple that reminded him of plums. He let his eyes travel upwards without moving his head. Rubberband Man was sitting at his side. Richie took note of the chain that bound them together, then glanced up at the lights. Yes, those were the things blocking his connection to Backpack and probably preventing Rubberband Man from morphing into something skinny that could slip out of the wrist-cuffs. _Well, at least I'm here with someone I can trust._

Rubberband Man turned his head and jumped a little when he realized Gear was watching him.

Sitting up slowly, testing his body's limits, Gear smiled a little. "Fancy meeting you here. Did you have a pleasant run-in with the nice monster-men too?"

RB Man nodded. "You head okay?"

"Yeah. I'm not even dizzy." Gear stood and RB Man followed him to the window. "We're heading east," Richie noted. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"About seven hours. I guess they hit you harder than they hit me."

Gear didn't answer that. "All communications were jammed."

"So Static doesn't know you're out of Dakota?"

"He thinks I'm on my way to Gotham." Gear frowned and studied the sky. "He won't start worrying until late tonight when I don't call him." He met RB Man's eyes and a silent message passed between them: _A lot could happen before then._

"Any idea who our kidnappers are?" Gear asked, turning his eyes back to the window even though there wasn't anything to see but ocean.

"Besides rejects from _Return of the Jedi_? No."

"Their employer is rich and on the cutting edge of neurotechnology. My link to Backpack has been cut. Whoever our enemy is, I think we can rule out low-tech security." He turned to RB Man and his smile was grim. "But that doesn't mean low-tech solutions won't work all the better because they aren't expected. We should be prepared to move the moment they open the doors. Maybe the damping-lights will be deactivated. Even if they aren't, we can run."

RB Man nodded, wondering if Gear realized he'd taken over their plans of escape. _Probably not, _he decided, studying Gear's fierce expression. _Just because he's Static's partner doesn't mean he doesn't know how to take charge of things._

As if Gear sensed RB Man's thoughts (and the older superhero wouldn't have doubted it, given Gear's extraordinary talents) he said, "I'm sorry; you've been a superhero longer than me. Do you have any ideas?" He turned to RB Man and met his gaze. His gaze was suddenly unsure, almost lost. "What would you do?"

"I'd follow your plan and try to get away as soon as possible," RB Man answered, grateful that Gear was acknowledging him. _It's not like I need his approval, but… It'll be better if we start out as full partners from the beginning._

Gear's smile was broader now. "We'll make it."

That was when a noxious gas began to fill the small cell. When it cleared, both superheroes lay, unconscious, on the floor. Gear had managed to draw them both down to the floor so they wouldn't be injured when they passed out, but that was all he could think to do. There was no way to get out.

oOo

Hotstreak opened his eyes and found himself staring at a blank, metal wall. He heard the humming of the lights above him and thought they sounded like a bunch of angry bugs. He felt the bracelet around his wrist- Hotstreak knew all about handcuffs- and realized he was in some type of cell. Turning his head, Hotstreak was stunned to realize that he was chained to Static. He remembered how he'd been jabbed by something, how he'd lost consciousness, but he'd assumed they'd been after him. Why had they captured Static, too?

_Guess they're not police officers after all. _Hotstreak looked out the window Static was standing in front of, but all he could see from his place on the floor was a blue sky. Seeing that gave him a jolt, and for a moment, he couldn't' figure out why. Then he realized. _We were fighting at night. If it's morning, we're either on the other side of the world, or we've been out- at leas _I've_ been out- all night. _Rising smoothly to his feet, Hotstreak said the first thing that came to his mind: "You got ten seconds to get this thing off of me or your goose is cooked."

Using the connecting chain for the leverage it was, Hotstreak spun Static around and tightened an arm around the younger teen's neck. For a moment, the two of them were close enough to kiss.

"Hold on, Smoky. I'm not the one who put you here." Static was trying to push away from him.

And, frightened by the opportunity and sudden urge, Hotstreak let him go. Disguising his unease with a malevolent grin (at least it _felt_ malevolent to Hotstreak), the red-head answered, "Not my problem." He held up his hands and tried to ignite. He couldn't. That had only ever happened when he was soaked to the skin, so… "Hey! No flames!"

Static had taken a step or two back, extending the chain as far as it would go. Hotstreak took a step closer on the pretext of saving his wrist from being bruised. He watched the superhero try to use his powers. After a few sputters, the electrical charge gave out. "Something must be neutralizing our powers." He glanced up and nodded to himself. "And I'm guessin it's those funky lights."

Hotstreak, too, glanced up, and thought, _Well, at least that buzzing isn't just because they bought cheep lights. It's actually doing something. Not that I want it to do anything. _He felt the engines rumbling under his feet and decided he was stuck with Sparky for a little while, at least.

"They're some kind of power dampers," Static went on. Then he met Hotstreak's gaze and said, "We need a plan."

_We? You and me? _Hotstreak mentally shook himself as he tried to stem the flooding tide of fool-grinning happiness that flooded him when Static included him in the plan. Logically, he understood why Static said we: the two of them were chained together. Still, Hotstreak couldn't help but think that maybe Static was giving him the benefit of the doubt and including him in the planning process.

_Whether I deserve it or not, and I'm sure I don't, Virgil's giving me a chance to prove myself. Or at least that's what it sounds like. _Keeping the excitement from his face wasn't easy, but Hotstreak was determined, at least for the moment, that Virgil wouldn't see anything except the resentment and doubt he expected to see. _Let's see what kind of move he makes when I don't' open up right away and smile at him._

Apparently no move was the answer. Static turned to the window and gazed out. He tugged a little on the chain and Hotstreak came reluctantly. He looked over Static's shoulder and saw the island. _Why is it they had to take us to the middle of nowhere? _He ground his teeth and swore that whoever had brought them here was going to have some hard questions to answer.

Five minutes later, Hotstreak learned what "we need a plan" really meant.

The plane or hovercraft or whatever the fool thing was had landed, and a truck, equipped with the same funky lights, surely, was parked nearby. Hotstreak took one look at that truck and knew what had to be done. "When they move us to the truck, we're have a chance to escape."

"Forget it," Static said at once. "I'm sure they grabbed me by mistake."

_Cocky asshole, _Hotstreak thought. "Dream on, Sparky. It seems pretty clear they want us both." The urge to take Static's hand was so strong Hotstreak had to ball his own hand into a fist to keep from giving in. A moment later, the temptation had passed, and Hotstreak was desperately glad. He and Static walked to the force field and looked at the guards. They were armed with some sort of pitchforks that probably did more than move hay.

"Look, I'm Static. I was trying to catch this guy when you grabbed me.

Hotstreak frowned. _Big tough superhero gotta load off on me. Maybe there was nothing to that "we need a plan" bit. _He refused to admit that he was hurt by Static's show of self-preservation. _I guess I know what he's going to go since I didn't agree with his stupid plan._

Static continued, "_He_ was the one stealing the car. I was just-"

The guard jabbed his pitchfork at Static. It let loose an electrical charge that shouldn't have affected Static- but did.

"Keep quiet," one of the guards said, his voice echoy behind the mask.

_What, do we have a disease or something?_ Hotstreak's frown deepened into a scowl. _You gotta wear masks because you're afraid of us or something?_

Then Static's cry of surprised pain startled Hotstreak back to reality. _Now how did they know that would work? _The read-head wondered, partially to squash his concern for the teen beside him.

"Look, I'm trying to be nice-" Static began, holding out a hand.

The contact between the pitchfork and Static's chest was longer this time and Static did more than cry out; he collapsed at Hotstreak's feet with a soft moan, yanking Hotstreak forward.

Apparently, the guard took Hotstreak's movement as a threat, because he aimed the pitchfork at the second Bang Baby. "I-I didn't say nuthin," Hotstreak told them, holding up his hands.

He dropped to one knee, touching Static's shoulder to get his attention. "Are you with me or not?"

Static was still conscious. He'd just had the wind knocked out of him. "I'm with you," he whispered. Hotstreak saw the small but powerful charge in Static's fist and realized that the buzzing lights had been shut off.

_Sweet! That means I have flames, too!_

"Get up. Let's move," snapped the man behind the robot-mask. He was still jabbing the pitchfork in their direction, but that no longer mattered. No mere human had ever been a match for Hotstreak.

The two Bang Babies didn't glance at each other, but they were both thinking the same thing, their eyes gleaming at the guard. _You're going first. _As one, they hit him and the others beside him.

Then Static turned away and started attacking other reinforcements.

Hotstreak yanked Static back towards him, ruining the hero's aim. _But he didn't see the pitchfork thing getting too close to him._

"Hey!" Static cried, angry.

_Nope, never even saw it. _Hotstreak smirked, then heard the sound of many troops coming. _How many robot-masked buffoons are on this stupid island? _"Huh?" _Real swift, Pyro. _"I've got em." _Better._

But now Static had jerked his arm. The wall behind the guards exploded.

_Did he do that in revenge or what? _"You made me miss!"

Static stepped between the guards and Hotstreak and knocked the troops out with one well-placed blast.

_I could have done that and had a lot more fun, _Hotstreak thought. Then the electrical blast, or the fringe of it, traveled, and Hotstreak found himself on the floor, his head ringing. Without thinking, he shot a small burst of flame at Static, who blocked it.

Turning his head, Static noted that the guards were starting to get up. He held out a hand to Hotstreak. "Get up."

Hotstreak grasped the offered hand, lamenting briefly- _oh how sappy can I get!- _that Static was wearing gloves. "Thanks. Now get out of my way." With his left hand, he shot flames at the first guard. "One!" His right followed. "Two!" Then both hands, just because he felt like it. "Three! Man, I'm smokin!"

Static led him forward and glanced into the cockpit of the ship. The wall he'd made Hotstreak hit was that one between the cargo area and the brain of the ship, Hotstreak realized. Shaking his head, Static said, "Great. Now we have to walk out of here."

"What do you mean 'we'?" Hotstreak demanded, anxious to be away from Static before he finally gave into one of the impulses that kept tapping at his brain. He knelt by one of the downed guards and looked at it. "Bet this'll unlock us." But, a moment later, "Stupid thing's busted."

Static looked at the electronic key. "It's melted. You fried it when you fried that guy."

_Oh yeah, like your idea of blasting the guards with electricity- and me, too, don't forget- was so much better? _'We'll see," he snapped at the annoying superhero and tried to burn through the binding chain. "The stuff some kind of stupid sumthinerother."

Static was grinning. "Can I quote you on that, Professor?"

Hotstreak scowled at him. _Always with the jokes, Virgil. I should have figured out who you were a long time ago. You and Static say the same stupid kids of things. _He tried to burn through the metal, but stopped when Static exclaimed, "Ow!"

Tugging at the chain, grimacing, Hotstreak said, "Nothing!" He continued to yank at it nevertheless, just to have a way to let off some steam.

"The locking system's electrical. Maybe I can short it."

A charge traveled up the chain and zapped Hotstreak's hands.

"Well, that's not working either," Static said, laughter bubbling under his voice.

Hotstreak grabbed Static's shirt and glared at him as he brought their faces very close together. 'You think that's funny?" His free hand filled with fire.

"Well, yeah." Static's hand glowed with electricity.

_And we're back to where we started when I stole the car and-_

The roof of the truck exploded and the two Bang Babies were thrown to the floor. A droid, small, quick, and deadly, stared down at them and prepared to fire again. Hotstreak had a thought this blast wouldn't just knock them out, but might put them out for good. Struggling to his feet, noticing Static doing the same at his side, Hotstreak opened his mouth and was startled to hear the words come out of Static's mouth at the same time. "This way!"

But they were going in two different directions. They rebounded into each other and fell again.

The droid fired at them, but the blast blew them out of the truck. As they hit, Hotstreak wondered how much power was in one of those blasts. He decided he didn't want to know. Lying on his back with Static beside him, trying to get his breath back, Hotstreak watched three or four more droids coming, along with a few soldiers on tiny flying ships that reminded the red-head of the swoops in a _Star Wars_ book he'd read as a kid. Grey, narrow and controlled by handlebars, they could have been those swoops he'd loved so much. _Whoever designed all this stuff read those books like a maniac or watched _Return of the Jedi _one too many times._

Scrambling to his feet, Hotstreak glanced at Static to make sure he was ready to run, then the two dashed for the corner of the building. If they could reach it, maybe they'd find a place to hide. At least they'd have a moment where they were separated from the guards.

As they ran, Hotstreak found himself thinking, _And as hard as Static would find it to believe, I _did_ read. Quite a lot, actually. What else was there to do in the hospital? You could only watch so much T.V. and play so much Connect-four._

Then Hotstreak saw the tall crate, and he yanked Static behind it. The two of them didn't have a chance to see what was around them; all they could do was make themselves as little as possible and hope the guards or droids didn't have heat-sensors. _Considering everything else I've seen, I wouldn't be surprised, _Hotstreak thought as he listening to the approaching engines. He held his breath, more pumped up on adrenaline than he could remember being in some time. _Maybe not since I became a Bang Baby, because it became too easy when I could just blast everything. Now I'm like I was; running from the cops and hoping I've picked a good enough hiding spot._

Hotstreak decided he might well trade his powers for the chance to live life on the edge of danger again. _I live on the edge of society, but that doesn't mean I'm in danger. All I _am_ is dangerous. _He grinned as the sound of the engine faded. _Except now. Yeah, maybe I'll just give it all up._

The two of them rose and looked around. "See any guards?" Static whispered.

Hotstreak shook his head. _Good thing, too. We're sitting ducks right here. _He was planning to continue running, maybe get to the huge forest that surrounded the small, civilized part of the island, but Static had turned the building, peering in the large window there. Sighing, Hotstreak glanced in. His jaw dropped, but he closed his mouth almost at once.

Static's surprise must have been complete, because he spoke his thoughts out loud. "Rubberband Man…. Talon… Gear!"

At once, the muscles of Static's neck tightened and he reached up to touch the glass, as if he could reach Gear that way.

Hotstreak considered the inside of the room. All three subjects were strapped to inclined tables. None of them seemed to be badly injured- though Talon looked exhausted- but they were unconscious. The red-head looked at Static and realized that, at least for the moment, the superhero wouldn't be able to think about anything but his precious partner.

That was when a guard spotted them and Hotstreak found himself having to drag Static away from the window.

_I'm worried about Richie, too, you know, but you don't see _me_ losing my wits because of it, do you? _To pull Static back to reality- to try, anyway- Hotstreak warned "Here they come!" as he made a shield of flame to protect them from the blaster fire.

Static took out his flying disk, but his movements were clumsy and slow. "They're got Rubberband Man, Talon and Gear," he said, as if he couldn't believe it.

_Or more like he can't think of anything else. _"Well, they're not getting me." Hotstreak sheathed his body in flames and started to fly away. Running just wouldn't do the trick today.

"Hey! Wait!"

_Fat chance, Sparky. We'll end up on those tables if we don't run now._

Static followed, but too reluctantly, as if he couldn't bear to leave Gear behind, even in the face of certain death.

"You're starting to be a real drag, you know that?" _Virgil's best weapon's always been his mouth. If I can get him to engage it…_

"If you don't like me, you're gonna hate those guys." But it was as if the retort came from another planet. Static was still dazed. And yet, far away as he was, Static had enough presence of mind to hit one of the nearest swoops with a burst of electricity. The craft fell out of the sky and the guard jumped off.

Still, Static wasn't all there, and that's what Hotstreak needed. "You're slowing me down!" he tried again.

And, miracle of miracles, that got through. "Who's leading who, flame-for-brains?" Static shot back. He began to fly faster.

Then two blasts struck them. One burned across Hotstreak's shoulder and the other caught Static in the leg. They fell out of the sky, crashing through trees and finally coming to rest at the base of a huge, spreading tropical variety Hotstreak couldn't name.

As one, they stood.

"The trees will give us some cover," Static said, looking up at the sky. For the moment, their fall hadn't been tracked. But they would be pursued soon enough.

Hotstreak rubbed at his shoulder. _Damn, that hurt like a-_

"How's your shoulder?"

Hotstreak looked away, embarrassed. He held up a negligent hand. "Fine. How's your stupid leg?"

"Fine." When Static answered, Hotstreak could hear the amusement in his voice. And even if it was at his expense, Hotstreak was glad to hear it. That meant Static was dealing with a full deck again. "We better get a move on."

They began to push their way through the trees and Static pointed at something metallic showing through a gap in the trees. "Hey, it's the jet scooter I shot down."

_So, that's what you call those things. _Hotstreak suddenly felt very foolish that he had called the graceful, grey crafts "swoops." _Well, just so long as Static never has to find out, I'm fine with it. _Approaching the scooter, Hotstreak frowned down at his reflection in the craft's shiny side. "It's busted."

Static touched the scooter's side. "It'll do." As the power was absorbed by the small craft, Static added, "Get on."

A minute later, they were flying under the canopy of the trees, still hoping stealth could help them. Static was in the driver's seat, and Hotstreak wasn't exactly sure how the superhero had gotten there, except that he figured Static probably knew more about "jet scooters"- _swoops to me- _then Hotstreak did.

A tree exploded just behind them and several small circular devices- the probes Hotstreak had noticed earlier- were chasing them.

"What the heck are those things?" Static exclaimed as he tried to make the scooter do a complicated twist-dive that almost sent them crashing into a tree.

Hotstreak left a trail of fire behind them, hoping some of the droids would run right into it and kill themselves. But the droids were smarter than that; they avoided the trap easily.

Static asked, "Wearin your seatbelt?"

Hotstreak had been half-turned around, wanting to see if he'd gotten any of their pursuers. He shouted in surprise when Static made the swoop dived suddenly and turn to the right. One of the droids connected with a tree and exploded. The others still followed.

But something was wrong with the way Static was flying, and the red-head thought it was more than just the stunts the younger teen was pulling. Hotstreak had always possessed an impeccable sense of direction, and- "You're going the wrong way!"

"No I'm not," Static shouted back over the wind. "We have to go back and save Gear and the others."

Hotstreak kindled his left fist, holding a fireball next to Static's face. The hero didn't know Hotstreak would never burn him, and that was just as well. "If you want me to turn down the heat, you know what to do."

"Hey, we're on an island, remember? We're surround by water!"

"What's your point?" Hotstreak stole a glance back. They were being followed by three droids now instead of four- _But it'll only take one to finish us._

"You've got fire powers. I've got electric powers. You really want to try flying over miles and miles of ocean?"

_Okay, good point. But that doesn't mean I'll tell you as much._

"Okay," Static said. "We sneak back to the base, save the others and steal a hovercraft."

Hotstreak could practically feel the droids singeing his neck with the blasts they were firing. "Have it your way." He yanked Static off the scooter the moment before the lead droid made their stolen vehicle explode. They fell, but weren't hurt, and Hotstreak said, pointing, "Look. That's the lead droid." He knew it was the lead one- or guessed it was- because it was slightly bigger than the others. Shooting a fireball upwards, he caught the droid from below and it flew off course, heading towards the nearest beach. "That'll keep em busy." He started back the way they'd come.

"Now you're usin your head," Static said as Hotstreak pulled a large branch back so they could pass.

"Not really. I just like to blow stuff up." Hotstreak let go of the branch and it smacked Static in the face.

Ten or so minutes later, Static peeked around the last tree on the edge of the clearing where the base stood. He and Hotstreak moved to crouch behind the final line of bushes. "On the count a three," Static whispered.

_Fuck that. I'm not waiting. _A clear and certain knowledge that Richie was in danger had been steadily growing in Hotstreak's mind until it burst open like a poisonous flower. "Three!" He darted across the open ground between the bushes and the side of the building, yanking Static after him.

A moment later they were pressed against the side of the building. "Let's check inside. On the count of three," Static said again. As one, they said, "Three!"

Hotstreak was the one to push the door open, but Static was the one to lead the way in. Everything inside was gleaming metal, like the swoop, and Hotstreak felt his stomach turn over beneath his ribs. _Now why am I being such a chicken? There's nothing scary here. It's just a metal room!_

Static moved against a wall, pressing himself to it to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. Hotstreak followed. After a quick glance around a corner, Static darted around it and the two of them crouched down.

To their right, in the main room, a door opened and a plump woman, dressed in the whites of a nurse, exited. She was studying a small screen of some sort as she walked along, never even glancing at them, but Hotstreak felt as if she was staring right at him, or at least the things on the screen before her were _about_ him.

Out loud, his stomach and throat clenching as if to keep him from speaking, Hotstreak said, "This is a hospital." He shrank back against the wall. "I don't _do_ hospitals." Yeah, he'd done it to see Richie. But that had been hard. This was worse somehow. Because the people here could actually hurt him, actually force him to stay here.

The nurse disappeared through another door. Static stood. "Come on. The coast is clear." He pulled at the chain, then looked back to Hotstreak when the red-head didn't (couldn't) move. "Three?"

Hotstreak stared at nothing as he imagined the needles coming towards him again, the I.V.s, the prodding from doctors and of course the nurses, both good and bad, that came to take care of him. He didn't shiver, but that was only because he was afraid if he shivered the needles would have to be put in again.

Gradually, though, he became aware of the eyes on him and as the world of his memories faded a little, he said, "When I was a kid, I was in a hospital for two years." He squeezed his eyes shut against the very thought of being trapped in the same building with a nurse. _I sound so pathetic. _But he couldn't help it, and so Hotstreak accepted it. "I _don't do_ hospitals."

"If you don't help me now," Static began, kneeling beside him, "this time it will be a lot longer than two years."

Hotstreak looked at Static, surprised that the teen wasn't yelling at him or trying to yank him to his feet.

_In other words,_ the superhero's eyes said, _we could be here until we die._

"Okay," Hotstreak answered, resolving that he would face his fear, at least for now. _I can always go back to hating and dreading hospitals later._

Voices echoed from the direction the nurse had disappeared. "We're still searching the crash site. No sign of em yet," said a voice over a guard's radio.

Hotstreak and Static pressed themselves against the wall around the corner and watched the guards wheel an unconscious Talon through the hallway.

Hotstreak's stomach twisted beneath his ribs when he saw her. There was no glass between them now, nothing to trick his eyes. Talon looked more than exhausted; she looked beaten. The red-head's lip came up in an unconscious snarl and he vowed to rescue her.

"We can do what you say. Of course. It is dangerous, but it may work." The man's voice held a heavy accent, but Hotstreak wasn't sure where the man was from. All the Bang Baby understood was that the man, by the authority and prissiness in his voice, was a doctor.

"I don't pay you to do things that may work. I want results. Clear?"

"Alva," Static whispered.

_And here I expected you to notice the prissy doc is pushing Gear towards what looks like certain death, _Hotstreak thought even as his own pulse raced and he looked after Gear with something bordering on horror. _I know who that doctor reminds me of. Back in second grade, Aunt Sue and I visited the Holocaust museum in D.C. This doctor's like the German Nazis._

"What you're suggesting… It could be the end of our three specimens."

"They're disposable. Just find a cure for my son."

As the living statue of Edwin Alva, Jr. rolled past, Hotstreak scowled. _Sure, it fits. Kill three just to save one person. Yup, he's a Nazi who somehow managed to stay pretty young sixty years later._

oOo

The connection had been reforged between Backpack and Richie the moment the damping lights had been shut off. But the renewed connection didn't do Backpack any good when Richie was unconscious. Yes, the robot could have escaped, but that would not only leave Richie defenseless, but the guards might punish Richie, thinking that he had ordered Backpack to leave.

_They know much about neurotechnology, but I doubt anyone understands how deeply Richie and I are connected._

A wave of confusion swept over Backpack and for the first time he regretted the connection he had to Richie. The teen had been pumped full of drugs that kept him just under the thin veil of sleep, awake enough to scream, but not near enough to consciousness to fight. Every time Richie started to shake off the effects of the drugs, more would be pumped into his system through the I.V. Backpack's only hope was that the introversive drip would be disconnected at some point and he would have a chance to help Richie regain his senses.

_I could block the connection, but I won't. Not after being separated from Richie fro so long. Almost ten hours passed before I could sense him again. Besides, occasionally Richie hears me in his mind and relaxes a little. It isn't much, but I'd rather offer as much reassurance as I can instead of not being able to give anything._

A sensor drew Backpack's attention and he was surprised to find that a familiar bio-signature was nearby. _Virgil is nearby. He hasn't been captured, but he's here. I should have remembered that eh wouldn't let anything happen to Richie. I'll be ready to help when he makes his move. And hopefully the I.V. will be gone._

Abruptly, another sensor flashed at him, and Backpack was shocked to realize that Richie, in his dazed way, was struggling to build the connection between himself and Virgil. _He also senses that Virgil is near._

The connection had been toyed with, worked on, but was nowhere near complete.

_But how can Richie have the strength or presence of mind to even attempt the link? _Backpack wondered.

_Easy, _answered a far-off, cold voice in his mind. _It's not Richie._

_Gear? You were rejoined with Richie. It isn't safe for you to break away from him._

_I'm only half-separated and I'll go back when Richie wakes up. But he needs me. I've blocked off part of his mind from the drugs._

_How can I be sure you'll go back?_

_Easy. If I wasn't going to, I wouldn't try to get Virgil's attention, would I?_

_You might, if you saw no other way out.\, _Backpack answered, leery of Richie's alter ego in the extreme.

Gear sighed. _Look, you're distracting me. I need to reach Virgil. After that, feel free to make me rejoin with Richie if you think it's necessary. I'll go quietly. But you can't deny Richie needs me right now. So are you going to help with the connection or are you just going to stay out of my way?_

_I'll help, but only so I can keep an eye on you._

oOo

"A transfer of these energies will cure him. These Bang Babies are filled with the same power that froze my son."

Static took in the large room, noting the circular tank where Alva, Jr., would probably be placed. He also saw the three chairs- more like chairs than tables now- where Gear and the others would be chained down to await the "transfer", whatever that meant.

_What are you going to do to my Richie, you son of a bitch? _Static's rage threatened to boil over like an untended pot. _It was like this when Ebon took Richie and when Brainiac captured him. I swear, someday I'll just loose my temper and kill whoever happens to be hurting Richie at that moment._

"We hope," the doctor answered Alva. "But if we lose these three…" He held out a hand, compelling Alva to listen to him.

"More are already on the way." Alva stepped into the glass elevator and was carried up to his office.

_Don't want to stay for the lightshow? _Static thought. _You're one of those men too squeamish to kill and cook his own meat, but you still love the smell of a barbeque, don't you?_ He sneered, but then his eyes fell on Gear again and determination to save his boyfriend overrode his anger, at least for the moment.

"Yes," the doctor said, all business now. "As you say." He stalked off towards the main computer console while the guards lifted Gear, Talon and Rubberband Man into the chairs and locked them in.

"Hear that? We gotta save em."

"Oh yeah? What have they done for me lately?"

Static was too preoccupied to care much about Hotstreak's attitude. "How about what I can do for you?"

"Huh?"

"Like maybe get us free. Look. A key." He was watching the nurse lock Talon into her chair.

Hotstreak's eyes narrowed. "Okay. We play it your way. What's the plan?"

Static began to move forward, keeping an eye on the guards, who were watching the three "specimens." "We stay very, very quiet." He led Hotstreak across the room and crouched with him behind a bank of computers.

The nurse was standing beside Gear. She glanced at the doctor, who had stepped away from his instruments for the moment. "All subjects borderline conscious. Energy levels stable."

"Good," the doctor said.

"Today," Hotstreak growled in Static's ear.

"Hold on," Static said, only half-listening. Gear was chained down now and the doctor was looking at the readings in front of him. Static sent a small hand of electricity across the room, snagging the nurse's key and bringing it back. "You see? Patience is a virtue." He unhooked the two of them.

Hotstreak raised his hands in triumph. "All right!"

The nurse whirled around. "It's them!"

"Nice work, Hot Head!" Static shouted. A moment later, he was hit in the chest and he fell back. The world started to swim away.

_No! Gear! Gear!_

Everything was fading.

oOo

Hotstreak hit the nearest guard with a flame-blast and started to run. He called over his shoulder, knowing Static was out cold, "Hasta la vista, Sparky!" Blaster fire rained around him, but Hotstreak protected himself with a fire-shield until the door had been punched open by the guards' own shots. Then he ran out. Above him, an alarm blared and the world was bathed in red warning lights.

No guards followed him. They knew better. Besides, now they had four specimens.

_I have to go back. Richie and Virgil need me. _But he knew he would do no such thing. Not only was he outnumbered there, but the nurse was there and so were the machines. _No, I'm not going back._

Ignoring his guilt, Hotstreak decided he'd stuck out his neck enough for one day. _Richie'll be fine. Static'll wake up and… _

_And by the time Static wakes up, Richie will be dead. I just know it._

_What can I do? I can't go back to help. It's too dangerous. There's no reason I should get captured trying to save them._

_True, but what if you could help them without any risk to yourself? _Hotstreak stopped running. What was it Ebon said all the time? '_Hostages aren't just for show, you know.' Yeah, that's it. He was reminding us how much help a captured hostage could be. Who do I know around here that would make a good hostage?_

Immediately, he thought of Alva, Jr., _but he'll be well-guarded. So… who else? _He didn't even want to think about touching the nurse. That went double for the doctor. And the guards weren't valued, surely, at least not enough for Hotstreak's purposes.

_That leaves Alva himself. If I grabbed him, everyone else would drop like terrified weaklings at a bank robbery. _He smiled. _Yeah, that's what I'll do. Now I just have to find Alva._

Hotstreak had been wandering rather aimlessly while he thought. Now, as he came back to himself, he spotted the stairway. Grinning, he started for the door. _Here I come, Alva, ready or not. You'll understand it isn't right to capture innocent Bang Babies. You'll think I'm mad about my capture. You won't get it that I'm protecting Talon and the two superheroes I love above everything else._

oOo

He wasn't unconscious yet. Not all the way, at least. Static found himself in a strangely similar state to Gear, though the veil between him and wakefulness was much thinner. Voices floated to Static and even though he couldn't react to them, he still filed them away.

Someone moved him a little, lifting his head for a moment before setting him back down. Even that little bit of movement made Static distantly nauseous and he groaned. "He'll be out for a while," the nurse said.

Other voices came and went, but these were so faint that Static couldn't focus on them. The veil was thickening, pushing him further down. _No… I have to… stay awake…. for Richie…_

Dimly, a moan of pain echoed in Static's mind and he pushed through the veil for a moment. Across the room, three screens were mounted on the wall above the chairs where Gear and the others were confined. All three screens were lit up, and Static realized the energy transfer had begun. Gear's face was twisted in pain.

The veil started to gather around him. Reaching out, fighting it, Static whispered, "No…" The veil won the struggle and Static collapsed again.

More voices. Then the moan in his mind became a scream, an agonized cry that reached his ears as well, yanking him upwards and giving him the strength to turn over. This time, Static didn't waste his energy looking at Gear; he spotted a power conduit nearby and reached out for it, knowing it would recharge him.

But a white high heel kicked his hand away and Static, groaning, fell back beneath the veil, though not quite so far. he moved his foot an inch to the right and felt the energy seeping into his body.

In his mind, Gear continued to scream.

The electricity did more than recharge him; Static felt his aches and nausea disappear. He jumped to his feet, startling the nurse who was standing guard over him. So, it had been her high heel that had kicked his hand away. Static threw her onto a rolling bed and sent her flying across the room. He saw the doctor turn away from the console, but didn't pay attention to him. Guards were coming for him, and Static, his fists glowing, dispatched one after the other. _You hurt Richie, _he thought as he flung guard after guard around the room. _You hurt my Richie!_

Out of the corner of his eye, Static watched the doctor run for cover, leaving the console unguarded. Static hit the switches that controlled the power transfer, flicking them off. The scream in his mind faded, then disappeared.

Other guards were coming for him, but Static shot at them across the room, flinging them against walls and tables as he ran for the row of three chairs. As he sprinted towards Gear, he saw the nurse shrink away from him with a low moan of fear.

_Well, lady, you _should_ be afraid. _

"Gear!" Static touched his unconscious partner's shoulder, then tried to work the controls of the chair. _Oh fuck it. _He used his powers to manipulate the controls. As the chair gave up its victim, Static leaned close to Gear. Placing one hand on his lover's shoulder and the other on the white helmet, Static shook Gear gently. "Wake up! Can you hear me?" _If he doesn't wake up, I'll kill them. I swear._

Gear blinked, looking slightly dazed. "Hey…" He turned his head and met Static's eyes.

The hero grinned.

"What brings you here?" Gear asked, struggling to focus his mind. With one hand, he reached up and touched Backpack. He still looked confused, but as if he was rallying his wits quickly.

"I heard there was gonna be free ice cream," Static answered, so relived that he allowed himself to grin like a fool, a thing he usually tried not to do while in costume. He thought it detracted from his ability to intimidate. Turning away from Gear, giving him a moment to collect himself, Static picked up the nurse, who was still hovering nearby, and carried her over to where Talon and Rubberband Man were still chained. He ignored her squawk of protest. Setting her down, he commanded, "Unlock those two. And make sure they're okay."

Gear was struggling to sit up, and Static turned back to him, his eyes once again full of concern.

Alva's voice echoed over the PA system. _The coward-doctor probably called him, _Static thought, and he decided he might put the man in his own machines just to teach him a lesson.

"All units to main laboratory. Surround west perimeter. Full remote deployment. Repeat: all units to main laboratory."

Static had helped Gear to his feet. Gear was leaning against him, but not with his full weight. Apparently he was getting strength, as well as his mind, back. "I don't suppose those troops are coming to help us," Gear muttered.

Static glanced at Talon and RB Man as the other two Bang Babies joined them. "Are you guys ready to fight?"

Groaning softly, Talon answered, "Yeah, I guess so."

RB Man stretched a little. "Give me a sec. I'll bounce back."

A moment later, the room filled with guards.

"Guess what?" Static asked. "Your second's up."

oOo

The instant Richie came awake, three things happened. His connection to Backpack became fully functional, flooding him with his robot's feelings of relief. He became aware, for the first time, of Virgil's emotions in his mind. (_The link works! _He thought. _The link works!_) Someone was shaking him and talking to him, trying to pull him into consciousness faster.

Richie never so much as sensed Gear's brief separation and independent movement, and it was just as well. Gear had reforged their complete connection, fusing himself seamlessly back into Richie's consciousness even before the blonde started to regain his wits.

Richie opened his eyes and gazed up at Virgil, so glad to see him that he almost wept. Instead, he asked, "Hey. What brings you here?" He wanted to hear a smart remark to his stupid question, and wasn't disappointed.

Static's worry retreated a little and his anger vanished completely. "I heard there was gonna be free ice cream."

Richie smiled. _I love you, Virg. _He began to gather his strength in haste. _I need to get up. We have to get out of here. BP? Are you all right?_

_Yes, Richie. I was not damaged. The damping lights only separated us. Are you strong enough to stand?_

_I think I will be in a minute._

oOo

Hotstreak bounced the flame on his hand as he held Alva's arm. "You're going to take me to that elevator, and you're going to tell all those idiots downstairs to lay off Talon and the others. If you don't, I'll roast you, then see to it your son is smashed into a thousand pieces."

If he had been Static, his bluff wouldn't have been believed. But men feared fire, and they feared the unstable teenagers that controlled amazing powers in Dakota. Alva nodded, accepting his orders.

Hotstreak grinned unpleasantly. "Good man. Let's go." Alva led the way down the hallway and to the elevator. Hotstreak hoped he was in time to save the others. He couldn't' hear what was happening from here, but he'd heard Alva give the alarm. That had to mean Static was causing problems. _But is Static fighting to protect Gear or is he attacking in revenge? _His chest tightened. _Is Richie dead?_

Alva began speaking almost before the elevator had cleared the second floor. "All troops stand down. I repeat: all troops, drop your weapons."

The guards paused; Hotstreak had moved behind Alva and he knew they didn't understand what was going on. The red head stepped around the billionaire. "You heard the man." He made the flame in his hand a little bigger for good measure. His spirits were up at once. Static stood nearby with Talon and Rubberband Man. Gear had his back to the elevator; he was gazing intently at the console where the doctor had been.

The guards dropped their weapons, staring at their boss.

Static looked less than glad to see him. "I thought you were out of here," he said, his voice tinged with fury.

"What?" Hotstreak asked, just enjoying the fact that he could talk to Virgil and that Richie was only a short distance away, very much alive. "And fly a hovercraft myself?" He smiled, impressed that he'd remembered the right word. Then he caught the way Alva was watching him apprehensively and bounced the flame in his hand just to watch the man squirm. "Sports cars are my thing."

"Static, you should see this," Gear called, barely looking around. "It's Alva's son. We're losing him."

"Is there any way to save him?" Static asked the doctor, who had miraculously reappeared.

"I don't know. There isn't enough power."

Static asked, directing his question more to his partner than to the doctor, "What if I feed the machine? What if I give it my all?"

Gear had been glaring at the doctor, but now he looked at Static, his eyes earnest. "Are you sure you want to risk it? It could drain you for good."

Hotstreak let go of Alva so he could take a step closer to Virgil and Richie. _You can't be serious! Look what he just did to you! He almost killed Richie and now_ you're_ going in there? Are you _insane

Before he could articulate any of this, Static nodded to himself. "Let's do it."

Less than a minute later, Static was in one of the deadly chairs, his eyes closed. Gear stood beside the doctor, pretending to look at the readings, but probably keeping an even closer eye on the doctor. His face was set like stone as he worked on a console nearby. What he could be doing, Hotstreak didn't know, but a look of confusion crossed his features almost at once.

The doctor flipped the switch.

At once, power ran out of Static, making the teen cry out in agony. The power was fed to the tank where Alva's son stood, and the tank began to glow.

Static was writhing, groaning. Hotstreak stared at him for a moment, then took a step back. _Virgil, it's too much! Can't you see it's going to kill you? _He turned to Richie, glaring at him. _Do something! He's going to die! Do something1_

"We still need more!" the doctor shouted as he stared at the diagram of Alva's son on the screen before him.

"Please," Alva begged. "It's his only chance."

_Like anyone would listen to you, _Hotstreak thought. But when he saw Static convulse, he said, "Fire me up. If he can take it, so can I." _And maybe I can take a little of the pain away from him._

An instant later, Hotstreak found himself wondering if he'd made the first mistake of his life.

oOo

Richie poured over the data. Something seemed so glaringly off that he felt physically sick with the idea of it. _What am I not seeing? _He went over the readings again, hating himself for missing it. Static's cries of pain made him want to leave off what he was doing, kill the power and just let Alva, Jr. die.

_But I can't. V said we'd try it, so here we are._

Then he saw it, and the shock at his own mistake made Richie almost laugh. Off to his left, the doctor (_A doctor's first promise is to first do no harm. What a joke this loser made of the Hippocratic Oath_) said, his voice strangely calm, "It's not working."

Richie ordered as he dashed to the console, "Get out of the way." He shoved the doctor back and began to work feverishly at the controls. _Idiot moron idiot incompetent ass.., Why couldn't he see he had the equation for power transfer backwards? _

"Stop!" the doctor cried, sounding offended. "You don't know what you're doing!"

Richie rerouted the changed links. Without even slowing in his typing, he said, "Hey, I'm a genius." He glanced to his right and watched Alva's son in his tank of fluid. _Five, four, three-_

The first alarm went off and Richie allowed himself a tiny smile. _Two… one…_

The water drained out of the tank and Edwin Alva, Jr., put his hands over his eyes. More importantly, at least to Richie, the power transfer stopped.

"Whad I tell ya?" Richie asked the shocked, white-coated man beside him. The doctor was gaping at him.

The tank receded at a touch from the boy's father, and the two embraced.

_BP, can you tailor me a quick virus that will record all the formulas here, transfer them to your hard drive, then erase everything on these machines?_

_Of course, Richie. Do you wish me to send a virus- a destructive one- to every machine on this island?_

Richie's smile was cold. _Yes, please, but save us a hovercraft. Let Alva and his people find another way off the island. _He paused, then added, _Thanks for dealing with all the weird drugs they kept putting into me. That must have been hard. I could feel how they affected you._

_I am well, Richie. I am only glad you are safe._

Alva, Sr., turned to Static and Hotstreak, who were making their way towards the others. "I guess I owe you my gratitude," the billionaire offered.

Static glared at him and Richie frowned, thinking of how he'd like to set a virus loose in every single one of Alva's machines back in Dakota. One thing distracted him from his anger; Alva seemed so relieved to have his son back. _I guess even half-devils have hearts._

"It's didn't do it for you, Alva," Static answered. "I did it because it was right."

Then, shocking everyone, Hotstreak said, "Yeah. You should try it sometime."

Richie almost laughed at the shocked look his lover shot the red headed Bang Baby. But he didn't want Alva to think he was getting off that easily. _Are all the viruses set, BP?_

_Yes._

_Thanks, buddy. _Richie relaxed a little more. _Maybe now this can all be over._


	17. BP Log and Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Okay, the reason I'm putting the whole book up here is because the last two parts, Backpack's Personal Log and Chapter Seven are the last parts of Book III. Book IV will open (I think) with the month of December. Don't hold me to that, though.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Again, as I've said, reviews are part of an author's food. Thank you.

Book III

Backpack's Personal Log (1)

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (3)

A short Conversation

Backpack's Personal Log (2)

Backpack's Personal Log (3)

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (4)

Chapter One: Happy Birthday, Richie

Chapter Two: Stand Strong Against the Night

Backpack's Personal Log (4)

Backpack's Personal Log (5)

Backpack's Personal Log (6)

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (5)

Chapter Three: On-line Chat

Backpack's Personal Log (7)

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (6)

Chapter Four: September

Chapter Five: October: Before the Island

Chapter Six: October: On Alva's Island

**Backpack's Personal Log (8)**

**Chapter Seven: October: Right after Alva's Island**

Backpack's Personal Log

Personal Log

Date: 10-5-03

Subject: My thoughts on the way back from Alva's island

I didn't tell Richie about Gear getting out and completing the connection between Richie and Virgil. The link is down again, and Richie never even noticed it. And if Virgil noticed it, he's forgotten. I just don't want to worry Richie anymore. Gear is dangerous when he and Richie are separated, but what can telling Richie do besides make him worry? I will not worry Richie.

The viruses I set loose on Alva's island are made to erase everything on the hard drives, then slowly the computers will melt down. Not one bolt will be salvageable. It's the least I could do to pay Alva back for the pain he caused Richie, and for the danger he created by awakening Gear.

I must study the drugs he injected Richie with. Perhaps they are what separated Richie and Gear, even if for only those few moments. Once I have an answer, I will take my findings to Richie. He perhaps will be angry with me, but I do not wish to worry him unless I have to. And, at least for now, Gear has completely remerged with Richie. Hopefully only drugs can bring Gear out. If that is the case, then Richie will be safe. The drugs were rare (and amazingly effective) just like the technology Alva used to track us, separate Richie and I, and suppress the other Bang Babies' powers. I will dissect the specifications for the machines and develop ways to fight them so Richie and I won't be caught at such a disadvantage again.

I wish Richie had allowed me to cause more damage on Alva's island. I have experimented with biological weapons, studying them in simulation. Richie has done the same, though most of his studying is how to fight such biological weapons. Someday Richie could make a great deal of money by selling his ways to combat the evils humans throw at each other.

Of course, I would never release any of the biological weapons I have developed without Richie's permission. But I think perhaps I will keep this log to myself. I cannot run the risk that Gear will ever learn what I know. Of course, Gear could build his own weapons of any type, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't try to keep my knowledge from him. He doesn't need to be handed anything that he can use to destroy the world. I do not think he would kill everyone on Earth, because then there would be no way to perpetuate his intelligence, except in mortal machines, as opposed to the immortal imagination of the human race. But that wouldn't stop Gear from killing certain people that he thought were a risk. Yes; I will not show any of this to Gear. And unfortunately, that means hiding certain things from Richie. It is regrettable, but the greater good- Richie's safety- must be served.

Chapter Seven: October: Right After the Island

Not that they could have done anything about it, but none of Alva's guards tried to stop Static and the others from taking a hovercraft and leaving. Soon, they would all wish they had done that, but their knowledge was a little behind the facts.

Gear went through a quick system's check while Hotstreak and Talon retreated to the back of the craft. Not even Hotstreak's usual baleful expression could hide the fact that he was worried about the feathered teen that was leaning against him for support. No one followed them, letting them recover in peace.

Adam called Sharon and told her he was heading back into town after an unscheduled mission. She chewed him out over the phone so loudly that everyone could hear her, but her worry was so apparent that Adam did more grinning than looking like a whipped puppy.

Once the controls were set, Gear made sure the autopilot would alert them when they were near Dakota before he left the hovercraft to fly itself. He had set the engines so the flight time would be cut approximately in half. Sinking into a seat beside Static, he announced, "We'll be back by late tonight. Will your parents worry?"

"Yeah, and so will yours, but what can we do?" Static put his arm around Richie's shoulders and drew him close. Lowering his voice, he asked, "How do you feel?"

"Exhausted," Richie answered. "A little violated, but mostly just glad to be off that death trap. You?"

"A little tired. Relieved." Static kissed Gear's ear. "I was worried about you."

"I love you." He closed his eyes. "I shouldn't have let you put yourself in danger like that. That idiot doctor's formulas were all turned around and flipped on their heads. If you hadn't shut off the machine when you did- Let's just say I shouldn't have put you at that machine's mercy without checking it first."

"You caught the problem before it was too late. That's all that matters. And there wasn't really time for a full diagnostic, right? Alva's son was dying." Running his hand up and down Gear's arm, Static tried to calm his partner. _Here's a switch. I'm usually the panicked one. And I sort of feel like I should be panicking, except I can't because Rich needs me right now._

Gear slammed a fist on his knee. "If that stupid moron doctor hadn't gotten everything backwards in the first place, there would have been plenty of time to figure things out. The only thing he had right was that he needed the same power we're filled with. But there are less painful ways to extract it."

Static put his lips right next to Gear's ear. "Richie, this isn't like you. Stop for a minute. Take a breath." He felt Richie obey and murmured, "Good. Let it out. Now, I'm sure you've figured out a way to keep us from being captured by those same sorts of devices, and if you haven't, you will soon. Please let it go, love."

His partner took in another breath and let it out. Then he turned his head slightly and smiled up at the teen who gazed down at him with worried eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Static kissed him again, teasing the blonde's ear with his tongue. "What now? Do you think you can sleep?"

Gear hesitated. "No. I need to talk to Hotstreak." Then he shook his head. "Actually, maybe you should talk to him. You seemed to share something."

Static rolled his eyes. "All we shared was a chain and a bunch of frustration. I was sure he'd ditched me after he got us discovered."

"But he came through, for whatever reason." Richie's lips barely moved. "Talk to him, V. Please."

Across the aisle, Adam let out a loud snore and the teens laughed.

"You'll never get a better chance," Richie added. "I'm going to sleep a bit, I think. Don't worry about me; Not only are we safe from pursuit, but BP won't let anything happen to me."

Static considered his boyfriend's words for a moment, then he stood. He waited until Richie had made himself comfortable on the seat, then, after glancing over to make sure RB Man was really asleep, he lifted Gear's faceplate and kissed him soundly. "I'll be back soon. That's assuming Mr. I'm-Good-Yet-Not doesn't decide to barbeque me."

Very seriously, Richie answered, "He won't. He's…" He yawned. "Never mind." His eyes drifted closed. "Night, Static. See you in a few hours."

Static gazed down at his partner for a moment, wondering what Richie had been about to say about Hotstreak, then shook his head. "Skip it," he muttered as he made his way to the back of the hovercraft.

Sacks of something that was probably wood chips were piled around the walls. Hotstreak was standing protectively over Talon, who was sprawled, asleep, on two sacks. The red head turned and gazed at Static. He put a finger to his lips, stepped away from Talon and gestured for Static to follow him deeper into the hovercraft. Pushing a door open, Hotstreak led the way into a small room. When the door was closed, he turned to face Static.

"What do you want?" Hotstreak demanded.

Static shook his head. "Nothing. I just thought I'd come back here to annoy you. How's Talon?"

"She needs sleep," he said, looking away. "Alva really did a number on her. I didn't realize she'd been gone so long. She told me she's been on that damn island for three days. She looks terrible." He looked back over his shoulder. "How's Gear?"

"Exhuasted. He's set us on a course back to Dakota and now he's curled up on one of the seats. Backpack's watching over him."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me hurting him. There's just so much anybody can take and I'm not going to make him go through anything else." Hotstreak shoved Static aside and made for the door. "I'm going to get some sleep."

"Wait." Static reached out, but his hand fell short of Hotstreak's shoulder. Still, the older teen turned to face him. "Why'd you really come back?"

Hotstreak scowled. "How's that any of your business?"

"Did you know your expression's almost Medusa-class ugly?" Static asked, grinning. "I just want to know. Besides, Gear suggested I talk to you." Shrugging, he added, "Gear trusts you, at least a little. Not enough to think you won't take advantage of us if you see an opportunity, but he doesn't think you'll hurt me just for the hell of it."

Hotstreak's eyes widened for a moment and Static swore he saw a blush stealing over the redhead's cheeks. But when he blinked, it was gone. _Silly, really. Why would Hotstreak blush? Call me an idiot, maybe, or say Gear's imagining things, but he would never blush. That's like saying Ebon can get sunburned._

"What else does Gear say?" Hotstreak's scowl had eased a little, but his tone was sullen.

"He says you and I had a bond on Alva's island, even if only for a few minutes. He was going to talk to you, then suggested I do it. So, here I am, because I promised I would and because I wanted him to get some sleep instead of worrying about you."

"You'd do anything for Richie," Hotstreak said. "Might jump off a bridge for him."

Virgil refused to be offended. Sparring with Hotstreak was actually sort of fun, the teen thought, hiding his smile. "I'm jumped off a building for him, so, yeah, I guess I'd jump off a bridge. What's your point, _Francis_?"

"Nothing. Just noticing that you're hooked through the bag. He's like a drug you can't get enough of."

Virgil laughed. Thinking of Richie as a drug pusher, one eye drooping, a knowing twist to his lips, was too hilarious to keep to himself. "Yeah, well, I don't want to quit. Richie's too good to me. So, why'd you come back?"

"None of your business."

"I know Richie'll say this, but I'll say it for him. Thank you. If you hadn't come back, we could have all been caught. Richie told me the machine was built on bad science and that it could have killed us. Especially Richie and the others because they were already weakened. So thank you for saving Richie. And you did the right thing saving Alva's son."

"Hey, I couldn't let you take all the credit. And Richie looked like he was going to do something drastic, maybe pull the plug on the whole thing or jump into one of those chairs right next to you. I couldn't let him do that. We needed him."

There was no way to read Hotstreak's expression. "Yes, we do," Virgil said. "Alva, Jr. would have died without him. You and I might have died without him. But Richie needs help, too. Alva's experiments enraged him. Richie's been close to losing himself in anger before, but only once. He didn't care, for all of thirty seconds, that he might have killed Slipstream. I don't ever want to lose him again. You weren't the only one who chose to do the right thing today. It was just as hard for Richie as it was for you. It's not usually like that, but today it was."

Virgil took a step back, confusion plain in his eyes. _Now that I've told him all that, now that he knows Richie is fallible and could do terrible things, what's Hotstreak going to do with that information?_

"It wasn't hard for me to decide to help. I wanted to help Richie."

Virgil was sure his jaw hit the floor. He yanked it back up so he could talk. "What? Why would you want-"

"Richie trusted me not to tell Ebon. I never did. And I'm the one who sent the phoenix. I wanted him to know that I'm not your enemy." He ran a hand through his hair. "I know I stole that car, but I'm not _your_ enemy. That doesn't mean I'm an angel, but I don't want to hurt you." The rest of his confession poured out of him, the words nearly tripping over each other as they fought to escape. "When I fought you under Madeline's orders, I didn't try to fry Richie. I blasted him, but I knew he'd dodge it. Just like I threw flames at you and knew you'd dodge them." He began to bounce a small flame from hand to hand, following the dancing fire with his eyes. "Richie's been through hell. I know what Hell is. Hell is not having parents that care about you. Hell is not having a stable, safe place to go to each night. Hell is not having a family that you know will always be there. Once I figured out the sort of shit Richie lived with every day, the shit he didn't let anyone else see, I backed off. Yeah, I was part of Ebon's plan to take you both out of commission, but mostly because I wanted to prove to you that I was stronger than you and because I didn't want Ebon to rape Richie." Hotstreak tossed the flame into his mouth, extinguishing it. His eyes fixed on a point over Virgil's shoulder.

"You want to protect Richie too?" The superhero's voice was scarcely above a whisper and he didn't try to make Hotstreak meet his eyes, knowing that he probably wasn't ready for what he might see there.

"Yeah." Hotstreak cleared his throat. "And this doesn't mean that I'm going to turn good, but I've been doing my best to stay out of your way. As far as Ebon knows, I haven't changed. I'm the same loner I've always been. And I'm going to stay that way. Don't think you'll get any more favors from me except my staying out of your way." Abruptly, he stepped forward and seized Virgil's arm. "And don't think this means I can't still fry your ass. It's just that I've decided not to. For now."

"Because of Richie."

"For now."

Virgil sighed and took off his mask. "For what it's worth, I think he trusts you with more than I said. I think Richie would trust you with his life. I don't, but he does. And Richie is hardly ever wrong. You could say he's had a lot of experience learning who he can turn to for help and who he has to stay away from when he's hurt or in need." He loosed a long breath of frustration. "I guess what I'm saying is I'll trust you provisionally. Provided you don't screw up and try to kill us or something, I trust you, too. Richie's instincts are hardly ever wrong. And besides… You did good things on the island, and I'm not just talking about coming back for us." It was Virgil's turn to push his way to the door. "I need to get back to Richie." He hesitated with his hand on the door knob. His eyes sparkled. If Hotstreak could make conditions, so could he. "Don't think this means you're invited to our Christmas parties or anything."

"I wouldn't come. Who wants to watch you and Foley snogging under the mistletoe?"

Virgil grinned. "You'd be surprised. A lot of people seem to find Richie sexy." He opened the door.

"Yeah, but you'd have your ugly puss in the way," Hotstreak shot back.

Virgil closed the door, smiling. The closed door muffled Hotstreak's laughter. _He was teasing me. Really teasing, not taunting or baiting, just teasing. Will wonders never cease?_ Slightly baffled by the strange turn of events, and unsure if he understood all of the implications of what had passed between himself and Hotstreak, Virgil headed back to the front of the hovercraft. On his way, he passed Talon. She was shivering slightly. Without thinking, Virgil cut open a thick sack of wood chips- that's just what they were, too- and covered the bird-woman with the insolating cloth. He shot a glance at the door to the other room; it hadn't opened. Shrugging, Static continued on his way.

He sat down on the floor so he could take Richie's hand. The blonde was fast asleep, the strain of the last twenty-four hours smoothed away.

Backpack whispered, "His mind is untroubled. Thank you for easing his anger. I do not like to see the world hurting Richie. Isn't it enough that he suffers everything once? Why must he live it endlessly in his mind?"

"You should pray with him and talk with him," Virgil answered. "I'll do the same. Richie's only human. He'll need to be reminded that he shouldn't hold onto his anger. We'll both remind him." Virgil lips twisted up in a wry smile. "And since he has reminded me so many times, it only seems fair that I should get a chance to point things out to him once in a while." He kissed the back of Richie's hand, then laid his cheek on the smooth, white skin. "I'm going to get some sleep."

"Is that advisable? You are in a very uncomfortable position. You may wake up sore or with strained muscles."

"There's nowhere else I can sleep and still be able to reach out and touch Richie. Yes, it's advisable. I need him." Any annoyance that would have usually accompanied that statement was tempered by Virgil's realization that Backpack, too, loved Richie and would understand the need to be within touching distance. "Good night, Backpack."

"Good night. I will awaken you if Richie calls for you."

"Thanks." Before he fell asleep, Virgil reflected that he didn't mind Backpack's voice so much anymore. It was starting to seem normal to him.

oOo

_Perhaps now I have a problem, _Backpack thought as he stood guard over Richie. _I perhaps should have mentioned Gear's presence to Virgil, even if I chose not to burden Richie with it. After all, Virgil could protect Richie without revealing the source of his concern. The more I think about Gear, the more concerned I become._

Deep in Richie's mind, joined with the emotional boy but separate from his as well, Gear listened to Backpack's wonderings and smiled to himself. _Maybe you should, _he answered, careful that his thoughts didn't reach the machine. _Except Virgil would have to tell Richie eventually, and he might just tell him immediately. You don't want that; we both know it. That's what I'm gambling all my plans on._

He added, reassuring himself, _Though my plans are really no different from yours, Backpack. I, too, want to protect Richie. I just think he could be better protected if he allowed me to take over completely during certain times. I'm the one who threw the water Zap Cap and the one filled with electricity at the same time. Oh, it was Richie's fear for Virgil that inspired me, but I threw them. If I can teach Richie to think as I do, to realize that sometimes he'll have to declare open war, war with no rules of good and evil deeds, then and only then will he survive. I don't want to kill Richie or imprison him; without him I would have no enjoyment of life. There would be no rest, no love. I need that love. I need Virgil, in my way, as much as Richie needs him. I need Static more, not just as my fighting partner, but as someone I could be intimate with. I know Virgil has no divided personality, but he is different in costume, and there's no doubt about that. And he is… hot… when he fights. When I see him using his power, I know I could be happy fighting beside him or making love to him for the rest of my life._

Gear turned his thoughts away from the future and back to his earlier conversation with Backpack. _It didn't go well at all, _he conceded. _I didn't have the time to be gentle with Backpack or answer his endless questions about my intentions. And if Backpack's worried that Richie's mind will fragment, I've got that under control. I'll watch over Richie like he was my own brother. I won't let him go insane. And, as far as I'm concerned, no one has to know I've taken a little of my freedom back. Backpack won't tell; Richie will never sense me. My only dangers are Batman's machines- not that I'll let him get me into them again- and Virgil. Virgil is the most dangerous because he knows Richie inside and out. I let too much of myself show in Richie's anger. True, Richie was genuinely angry- that's what saved me from being discovered. I simply fueled his rage too much. I can't do that anymore. Not if I want to survive. Because if I'm caught this time, Batman might just imprison me for good or worse, remove me completely from Richie's mind. Richie wouldn't be able to fight crime anymore, but he would still have his intelligence, so Batman might do it._

_And here I am, back where I started. I need to control my temper and make sure I stay hidden at all times. It's just too dangerous out there. Richie must be my shell. And because I don't really wish him any harm, that's fine with me. Through Richie, I am human. Through Richie, I can be with Static. Through Richie, all things are possible._

_I just need to make sure Richie's innocence doesn't get in the way._

oOo

Hotstreak stared at the closed door of the small room as he had done for the last ten minutes. His mind at first wouldn't settle on one thing, but kept rushing about like a small bird trapped in a barn. The sensation wasn't new to Hotstreak; he sometimes thought that he might be a touch crazy He knew more than half his anger came from confusion about his own thoughts.

_Why the hell did I listen to Nightwing? Now Virgil knows I love Richie! What's he going to do? He can't accept it; he'll see it as a challenge!_

Hotstreak slammed his fist against the door and cursed. The physical movement helped him a little, as it always did. _Now if I could just char-broil half a dozen stores or scare a big crowd of people, I'd feel better still._

He punched the door twice more, then rational thought began to assert itself. _Virgil doesn't know I love Richie. He knows I _care_ for Richie. Thos are two different things. Other people care about Richie, too, I'm sure. Well, okay, maybe nobody beside Virgil's dad and sister, and maybe the Corbetts. Those are big maybes. But it doesn't matter if anybody else really cares for Richie; Virgil wasn't upset when I said I care. He probably doesn't trust me, no matter what he said, but he didn't look like he wanted to attack me._

Hotstreak swore again._ I didn't get anything! All I did was say I 'like' Richie 'as a friend.' Damn it! What good does that do? I chickened out and couldn't even say what I wanted to say! I'm such a fucking coward. What's wrong with me?_

He jumped to his feet and began to pace. _I can't get to Richie without telling Virgil I love them both. That's the end of it. Virgil won't give me a minute alone with Richie._

_So, if that's the only way to do things, can I do it? Can I sit both Virgil and Richie down and talk to them, or am I too afraid? _He yanked at his hair. _I have to choose. Do I want to seem weak to them and confess my love, or do I remain strong in their eyes and weak in my own by hiding? _He knew the choice should have been simple; better to be strong for himself than for others. But he couldn't bear the thought of their contempt.

_Richie might not feel contempt for me, but Virgil would lose whatever respect he ever had for me. Which might not be much, _he added with a humorless laugh, _but something's better than nothing._

The urge to see Richie and Virgil swept through him and Hotstreak had his hand on the door knob before he realized that he'd stopped pacing. _I won't confess anything, _he assured himself. _Richie's asleep, anyway. I'll just look at them. No one will see me. Virgil's probably asleep, and even if he isn't, I'll just say I wanted to see where we're going. _He scowled. _No, I won't say anything. I'll just glare. Glaring is best._

He got himself moving. As he strode towards the front of the hovercraft, he saw that someone had spread an empty sack over Talon. He burned another one open and covered her, just to make sure she was all right. Then he ambled into the cockpit area, assessing the situation. Virgil was nowhere in sight. Rubberband Man was asleep, snoring lightly.

Hotstreak ignored the flash of panic as he glanced into the empty seats. Where could Virgil be?

He peeked around the seat closest to the front and saw Virgil asleep with his head on the seat where Richie lay. Both heroes were fast asleep. Virgil had put his mask back on, but he hadn't hidden how worried he was about his partner. His fingers were caressing Richie's hand, even in his sleep.

"What do you want?"

Hotstreak kept himself from jumping, but it was a near thing. "Who said that?" he whispered. He glanced down at Richie, thinking the blonde had spoken. But Richie hadn't stirred.

The robot on Richie's back lifted a sensor-eye and stared at him. "I did. What do you want?"

_Just glare. _Hotstreak did his best, but it was sort of stupid to think he could intimidate a machine. "None of your business. It's a free ship."

"That is true, but freedom has its rules. If you touch Richie, I will kill you. You have been warned." The robot retracted his sensor eye slightly, but he was still watching Hotstreak.

"Damn. Touchy, aren't we?" Hotstreak muttered. But he retreated to the seat behind Richie and Virgil and waited. Maybe the robot would go into a recharge or something and give him the chance to look at the superheroes uninterrupted.

Backpack poked his sensor eye over the back of the seat. "Either state your business or step away from Richie."

"BP?" A yawn came from the other side of the seat. "What is it?"

"Hotstreak is lurking nearby. He could be a threat."

"Mmmmm…." Richie stretched, and one of his hands came over the seat. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Approximately one hour."

Richie stretched again. Then he muttered, "Idiot," and got up. "Help me move him, will you?"

Hotstreak risked a peek around the seat and saw Richie and Backpack trying to maneuver Virgil onto the seat without waking him. Shaking his head, Hotstreak said, "Let me do that." Standing, he scooped Virgil effortlessly into his arms and deposited him on the seat.

Richie grinned as Virgil snuggled into the seat and made a contented noise. "Come on," Richie whispered, gesturing for Hotstreak to follow him. Once again, Hotstreak found himself making his way back to the small room. He noticed that Richie still looked exhausted, but that the blonde was determined to speak to him.

When the door was closed, Backpack climbed off Richie's back and settled himself between the two metahumans. Richie had seated himself on a crate and Hotstreak leaned against the wall, folding his arms.

But Richie didn't speak at once. He reached down and touched Backpack and his eyes lost their focus. His lips didn't move, but Hotstreak thought maybe the two were holding a silent conversation. When Richie at last looked up, he smiled at Hotstreak. "I seem surrounded by protectors. Knowing Virg, he told you to keep your distance from me, just like Backpack did. And considering the mistakes I've made recently by not listening to these two, I'm inclined to stay where they can see me." He reached out, and his fingers touched Hotstreak's arm. "But I trust you. If you want to sit nearby, it's okay with me. Just know that Backpack and V will watch you."

Hotstreak glowed as he felt the warmth of Richie's fingers on his skin. He covered Richie's hand with his own.

"Thank you for the phoenix," Richie went on, and now he was looking down at his lap. "It's beautiful. Why did you send it?"

"It was your birthday." Hotstreak cleared his throat. "I know what it's like not to have a family, one you can really trust. I… I thought you'd like it." He hadn't told Richie anything more than he'd said to Virgil, so why was he fighting not to blush?

"I knew it came from you," Richie said. "The minute I saw it, I knew. I don't understand exactly what you're thinking, but I'm grateful you've helped us." He glanced up through his long eyelashes, his expression unreadable. Then he straightened up and met Hotstreak's gaze straight on. "Will you tell me why you really left the statue?"

_Here it is. I can tell him. He won't laugh; I know Richie enough to know he won't laugh. _"I just did. Can't you accept it?" Hotstreak pulled away from Richie, dropping his arms to his sides.

Richie's hand hovered in midair for a moment, then he let it fall into his lap. "Forget I asked." He stood and Backpack climbed up his legs. "I should get back before Virg wakes up." He made his way to the door, his face turned away from Hotstreak.

Just as Richie's hand rested on the door knob, Hotstreak reached out and touched the blonde's shoulder. "Wait, Richie." As the younger teen looked at him, Hotstreak felt his frustration and anger at himself mounting again. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, compromising between the demands of the heart and the orders that came from his head. "It's just… it's hard for me to talk to people, y'know?" He stepped closer, raising a hand to touch the helmet. "Can you take this off for a minute?"

Richie frowned for a moment, peeked out the window in the door to make sure no one was coming, then did as Hotstreak asked. He gazed at the redhead nearsightedly. His eyes were bluer than Hotstreak remembered.

_I haven't seen him in so long without his disguise. _Hotstreak's hand drifted up of its own accord and brushed Richie's cheek.

The blonde blinked, but didn't pull away.

"I…" Hotstreak licked his lips. "Richie, I…" He leaned forward, cupping the back of Richie's head with his hand.

"No…" Richie pulled away as Hotstreak's lips neared his own. "I'm with Virgil. Don't." He put his helmet back on. "Don't." His voice had a hard edge to it. "I'm not your plaything." And, a moment later, he had opened the door and escaped.

Hotstreak stared at the closed door, then turned and kicked the crate Richie had been sitting on. _Fucking moron, can't you do anything right? Why couldn't you unstick your stupid mouth long enough to tell him you love both of them? Kissing instead of talking only works in the movies. Richie's too smart for that. _Swearing under his breath, Hotstreak set about demolishing the crate.

Thirty minutes later, he was sitting on the floor, turning tiny pieces of the crate into ash one by one. Someone knocked on the door and he looked up quickly. "Come in. It's a fucking free country."

The door opened and Richie stood there, gazing down at him. He was alone; Backpack had stayed behind. The blonde entered, closed the door and crouched in front of Hotstreak, his hands dangling between his knees. "Why do you want to kiss me? I don't think you're like Ebon, but I don't understand you. You've done nothing but ignore me all the time I've known you. The only time you ever even looked at me or spoke to me was when I was between you and something you wanted. So what do you want, Hotstreak?"

There was no way for Hotstreak to read Richie's expression or gauge his mood. "I'm different now," he said. "Not like a miraculous change or something, but I'm different now. I'm like I was when I lived with my Aunt Sue." He found it easier to talk once his emotions had been exhausted. "I didn't always hate everybody. I tried to like people. When I met you, you weren't any smarter than me. We could have been friends, except…"

"Except I was already friends with V and even back then you had issues with him and with yourself." He stood and Hotstreak followed suit. The redhead leaned against the wall and Richie stood by the pile of kindling.

"Why do you have to sound like a damned shrink?"

Richie sighed and bowed his head for a moment. His voice was at once gentle and repentant. "I don't mean to. Go on. So you're acting like you did when you were little. Why the change?"

"Like I said, I know what you've been through. And…" _I've got to tell him about Virgil, too. It's the only damned fucking way to get through this shit._ "I've changed towards Virgil, too. Can't you tell?"

"Yeah, but it's like you're being strangled every time you try to be nice to him." Then Richie grinned, like the sun sailing out from behind a cloud to brighten the formerly grey world. "I guess you've actively hated him for so long that it's hard to switch over to being decent. It's easier with me because I haven't really been on your radar." He looked away again. "I shouldn't have touched you. You'd think living with my father would have taught me not all people like physical contact. It's just that V and his family…"

"No, I liked it," Hotstreak said. It was his turn to avert his gaze as Richie's head snapped up. "I didn't mind it. I know you weren't trying to do anything." He winced. _I'm speaking so much shit, and not saying anything at all._ "Look, Richie, I shouldn't have tried to kiss you. I know you're with Virgil. I just… screwed up." _Yeah, that's one way to put it. _"I don't want to come between the two of you. I can see he makes you… that he helps… that you love each other."

Richie asked, "Then why did you try?" His hand drifted up, but he pulled it back to his side.

There was no anger in Richie's voice, and that gave Hotstreak courage. "I can't say I'm not attracted to you. Both of you." It felt like his eyes had lead weights attached to them as he struggled to raise them enough to read Richie's expression. Frank astonishment met his eyes.

"Francis-" he saw the older teen wince and stopped. "What can I call you? I don't want to call you Hotstreak." He blushed. "Unless you like that better."

"I don't really like either of my names," the redhead muttered, scuffing the toe of his sneaker on the floor.

"Oh." Richie was staring at his skates. "If I wasn't with V, if he wasn't with me… I've always found you…" He bit his lip. "Hot? That's not the word I mean, even though I'd be attracted to you if I wasn't with V. I've thought I could trust you somehow, even before the hospital, even though we've always been on opposite sides." He shook his head. "You've never given me a reason to hate you, not even to dislike you. You've annoyed me before, but nothing more than that. I like you." He swallowed. "But I can't leave V. I would never leave him. Please understand that I don't want to hurt you, but… I love him."

"And if I said I love Virgil, too? That I've loved you both for... a long time? What then?" Hotstreak reached out and touched Richie's shoulder.

The blonde raised his head. His hand drifted up again, and this time he let himself touch Hotstreak's hand on his shoulder. "As long as we're on opposite sides, we can't do this. And even if we were, Virg doesn't know how you feel. You need to talk to him. I'll help you if you want, but…"

"Does that mean you'd be with me if Virgil was all right with this?"

"We could try it," Richie said, and he stepped back, separating them. "I'm not sure if I love you, but I care about you. I would like to try us together." He held up a warning finger. "But nothing, I repeat, NOTHING is going to separate me from V. I need you to know that."

Hotstreak began to pace. "You make it sound like this is a business arrangement." Throwing his hands in the air, he demanded, "You're not the most romantic person in the world, are you?"

"I can't just shut off my mind because my heart's involved," Richie answered. "Either deal with that or don't. Would you rather I say 'Yes, I love you!' and then figure out later that we've both made a terrible mistake? You said you know what I've been through." Richie's eyes were narrowed and his voice had hardened. "Well, here's a part you may not know about: I'm finally happy. I finally have everything I've ever wanted and I'm not about to give that up for anything." He glared at Hotstreak, challenging him.

There was a beat of silence.

Hotstreak stopped pacing. "Richie… I didn't mean to sound like I want you to ever give up Virgil. I know I already said that, but I want you to believe it." He sighed, rubbing at the back of his head in a gesture that reminded Richie strongly of Virgil. "Yeah, I sort of hoped you'd say yes to me the minute I told you how I feel, that you and I would talk to Virgil together as soon as possible. I even hoped you'd kiss me. But I want this to work, so I'll back off. What I don't want to ruin is your happiness, Richie, and Virgil's. But I just want the two of you to know how I feel. You can make up your mind about what you want to do with it."

"I'm sorry I can't pledge myself to you," Richie said. "I'm sorry this has to be complicated. I like you. A lot. Please don't think I'm pushing you away for any other reason than because I love Virg. Please understand that. Before you talk to him, let me talk to him. Let me explain my feelings to him. I don't want to risk losing him. Then, when I've talked to him, the three of us can talk, depending on how he takes this. Okay?"

_I guess it's better than nothing. _Hotstreak shook his head at himself. _Who am I kidding? It's better than I deserve. I almost botched this whole thing. _"Okay, Richie." He turned to the door. "I'm going to get some sleep. I'll see you when we get to Dakota."

Richie followed him out the door and started to the front of the hovercraft.

Mindful of the fact that they were out in the open again, Hotstreak asked, "Gear?" Hotstreak was standing near Talon, getting ready to make himself a bed of sacks.

"Yeah?"

"I thought you said you wouldn't go anywhere Virgil or your robot couldn't see you. Where's Backpack?"

"In my mind. We have a mental connection." He frowned. "You knew that, didn't you?'

Hotstreak reflected that he might not have been so open if he'd remembered that but, yes, he'd known. "Yeah, I did. Good night."

"Good night." Richie ducked into the next room.

Hotstreak gazed after him for a moment, then got his bed together. He doubted like hell that he would sleep, but he decided to make the attempt. He'd been right; when the hovercraft landed three hours later, he was still awake.

oOo

_Is all well? _Backpack asked as he joined Richie on the seat behind Virgil.

Richie sighed. _Yes and no. You heard everything, BP; I just don't know what to do about it. What am I supposed to say to him? What else could I have said?_

_You told him the truth, Richie; no one can ask for more than that. _He brushed at Richie's neck, trying to soothe him. _Will you tell Virgil?_

_As soon as we have a few minutes alone together. There's no way I'd even try to keep this from him, even for a day. I just he doesn't think I would ever leave him._

_If Virgil believes that, we will convince him otherwise. He needs to understand how much you love him._

Richie groaned. _But look at it from his point of view. To all appearances, I'm saying, 'I like you, Virgil, but I want something more.' That's wrong. I can be happy with or without Francis. All I need is Virg, you and God. If everything else in the world disappeared, I could survive. If I lost any of you… I just don't want V to think I'm turning away from him._

_Then perhaps you should tell Hotstreak to back off and not tell Virgil._

_I can't do that._

_But why, Richie? You owe Hotstreak nothing._

_True, but he reached out to me. He loves me. I can't just shrug him off. It's not like he has anyone else to go to._

_What about Talon?_

_I get the feeling those two are friends, not lovers. Like Daisy and me. We could never kiss, even if I wasn't gay. And keep in mind, Hotstreak might not be the slightest bit attracted to Talon. Knowing how hard the world can be, can I, in good conscience, just tell him to buzz off?_

_You cannot take the weight of the world on your shoulders, Richie. And you cannot make yourself love him._

_I could love him if Virg loved him._

_But Richie… _Confusion flew down the link. _I do not understand. That makes no logical sense, nor does it make sense in respect to the emotions I know humans have. How can you be happy with someone you don't love?_

_If Virg loved him, it would be safe for me to love him, too. _Richie closed his eyes. _God gives a different gift to each of us._

_Yes, I read about the spiritual gifts. Speaking in the languages of the angels, understanding those languages, having the ability to heal people, these are the gifts that are spoken of in the New Testament._

_But there are other gifts. Compassion, love, acceptance, patience. I can love him if Virg loves him. That's the only way I can explain it. I don't really understand it myself, except to say that I've been told I can be content that way._

_Who told you? God?_

_Yes._

_When?_

_I don't know. The information's just there._

_But, Richie, you have always been so logical. How can you give over part of your mental functions in such a way? What if you only dreamed the answer? There's no guarantee you'd be happy. How can you trust such a vague feeling? Richie, please think. I don't want to lose you, especially to something I can't see, feel, study or hear._

Richie sat up and urged Backpack to sit on his lap. He began to caress his robot's back. _Many paradoxes exist in the Bible. One of the biggest is this: God can see past, present and future all at the same time, and, in spite of that, we still have free will. We can choose to follow Him or to turn away from Him._

_But Richie, if any being already knows what we're going to do, then no matter we do, won't we do just what that being knew we would do?_

Richie grinned. _That's the paradox, BP. God's omniscience and omnipotence exists right along with our freedom to choose._

_But how do you balance the paradox? I find such a truth perplexing and frustrating in the extreme._

_I have faith. Faith makes the paradox work._

_You believe because you read it. Richie, that is dangerous. You cannot just give yourself over to something blindly. That is not only illogical but foolish. Do not give yourself over to feelings._

_Faith isn't a feeling. Feelings are emotions, like being happy or sad. No one matter my emotional state, I will maintain my faith. _Richie's hands moved slowly over Backpack. _BP, I don't expect us to agree on this. I just want you to know its how I feel. You heard me say to Hotstreak/Francis that I'm more content now than I've ever been, that I have everything I'll ever want. That means a friendship with you, my love for Virg and my faith. Please don't let the fact that you and I think differently separate us._

_Richie, I would never be willingly parted from you. But I cannot understand your faith. I will still question you from time to time, to make sure you are thinking things through. But I can see how your faith has strengthened you. I will not get in the way of that. I love you, Richie. All I need to be content is you._

_I love you, too, buddy. I'll always love you. _Richie's hands stilled. _I think Virg is waking up. Shall we be there when he opens his eyes?_

_That would save him concern. _Backpack climbed onto Richie's back. _I almost envy you your faith, Richie. You are so sure of everything._

_No I'm not. I'm just sure I'll always have backup when I need it. I have no idea what's going to happen to me, but I don't need to know._

_Now I do envy something, Richie: your optimism._

Richie laughed. _In other words, my faith. We're back where we started, BP. _He knelt beside Virgil and touched his shoulder. _And, since we're almost back where we started, I don't' feel bad repeating myself. I love you._

_I love you._

Virgil opened his eyes and yawned. "Hey, I'm supposed to be on the floor and you're supposed to be on the seat. What happened?"

"I woke up and talked to Hotstreak." Richie glanced over at RB Man, noting that the man was still asleep. "Virg, there's something I have to tell you."

Behind Richie, the autopilot beeped, alerting him that they were close to Dakota.

Richie shook his head. "Should have known I wouldn't get all the time I needed to finish all my conversations. I'll be right back." He squeezed Virgil's hand and left him to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Seating himself in the pilot's chair, Richie reflected that he'd never actually flown an airplane or anything else, not in real life, at least. _At least I've logged over seventy hours in an F-15. _He grinned. _On my flight simulator. _The controls weren't all that different. And the engines were meant for vertical take-offs and landings, like the technology in his skates. So they were like old friends, someone he could fall in sync with after just a few moments of being together.

He heard someone enter the front of the craft, but didn't glance around.

"We're here?" Hotstreak asked, sounding grumpy.

"Yeah," Static answered. "Wake Talon, okay? I'm going to wake up Rubber Beauty over here."

"You don't order me around." But Hotstreak was already making his way back to the other room.

"Huh. Could've fooled me," Static muttered, then laughed.

Richie grinned. _Yeah, it's like he's being strangled every time he talks to V. _He found an empty parking lot. The sun had just disappeared over the horizon. _Hmm. We made better time than I thought. Maybe V's father won't notice he's been gone all day. _He snorted. _Yeah, like that's gonna happen. _Shaking his head, Richie devoted his concentration to landing the huge hovercraft. It was a little difficult because of how close the buildings leaned, but he managed it. _Wonder what we'll do with this thing now? Well, maybe I'll just leave it here. Knowing Alva, he doesn't want anyone to look at his technology. So he'll be along to collect his prize. And if he doesn't take it, I'll come back, crawl over it for spare parts, then leave the shell for the city to take care of. It's the least they can do after all Static and Gear do for them. _He laughed. _Who're you kidding, Foley? If you go over this thing for spare parts, nothing will be left._

The craft settled smooth as silk and Richie stood, turning to face Virgil, who had managed to get a groggy Adam on his feet. Hitting the switch for the exit hatch, Richie grinned at Virgil. "Last stop. Everybody out." He watched Hotstreak and Talon make their way out of the back room. Talon looked a little stronger, and her eyes were definitely more focused. Richie smiled to see the beginnings of her recovery.

Adam started out the door. Richie stepped back so Hotstreak and Talon could follow. Then he and Virgil left, sharing a smile as they left the last reminder of Alva's island. _Maybe I won't take the hovercraft apart after all, _Richie mused.

Hotstreak and Talon were whispering, but Hotstreak broke off when Static walked towards him.

Gesturing at a yellow sports car, Static asked, "So, are we picking up where we left off?"

Richie wondered what Virgil was talking about, but decided to let it go.

"Nah," Hotstreak answered. "You can take that care back. I got me a sweeter ride." He strode to the hovercraft, activated the door and jumped in. "Alva said it was okay."

Richie raised an eyebrow. _Far as I know, Alva didn't say two words to you before we left._

Hotstreak read Richie's expression, then said, "Hey, it's the least Alva owes me." And before anyone could argue, he closed the hatch and started the engines.

Static grinned. "Fair enough."

Talon was smiling at Hotstreak, and Richie wondered about the two of them. _She's sort of like his sister, the one who keeps him in line. _Glancing at Adam, he saw that the man was also smiling.

_I wonder how he'll do with clearing the buildings, _Richie thought.

Hotstreak lifted off.

_So far, so good, _Richie thought. _Think he'll make it, BP?_

_I doubt it, Richie. He is very close to-_

The hovercraft grated against the side of a skyscraper.

Richie winced.

"Oo, dang," Virgil muttered, shaking his head.

Richie thought he heard Hotstreak's exalted cry- "Wooo-wee!" but he couldn't be sure. He and the others watched until the hovercraft was out of sight.

_There she goes, _Richie thought, and he grinned. _Not exactly how I thought she would go, but at least I don't have to wonder what's going to happen to her. Hopefully Hotstreak's able to bail out before he crashes her._

"Well, I'm heading home," Adam announced. He stretched a little. "I need some sleep."

"Four hours wasn't enough?" Static asked.

Adam shrugged, smiled. 'See ya." He bounced away.

Turning to Talon, Richie asked, "Do you need help getting somewhere that you can rest?"

She shook her head. "I'll be all right." She peered at Gear for a moment, then smiled slightly. "I'll be just fine. Here's hoping I don't run into you two for a while." She spread her wings and flew away.

Static put his arm around Richie's shoulders. "We'd better get home ourselves."

Richie nodded. "Okay."

Virgil caught Richie's hand as the blonde started to move away. "Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"I think we should explain things to your Pops first. I can tell you in the morning." He met Virgil's eyes seriously. "For now, just know that I love you. That's the first thing I wanted to tell you."

Virgil hugged him. "I love you, too, partner. Let's go face the music. How bad can it be? I was only gone for a day."

Richie laughed. "You think I'm going to face the music right along with you?"

"How else are you going to explain being with me?" Virgil flipped out his saucer and charged it.

Richie activated his skates. "I'll back you. We'll say I had to come home early and you met me at the bus station. That is, if he didn't notice that you've been gone since last night. If that happens, well, you're toast."

They set off for the gas station. "One of the best minds in the world and that's the best you can come up with?" Virgil asked.

"Hey, I can't act too much smarter than my age or your Pops will really suspect something. Do you want him to figure out our secret identities?"

"I hate it when you do that," Virgil grumbled.

Richie's eyes twinkled. "Do what?"

Virgil swatted Richie's ass. 'Trick me into agreeing with you."

oOo

As Talon settled herself in the park for the night, gathering her wings around her like a blanket, she reflected on everything Hotstreak had told her. He had confessed his love to Richie, and the blonde hadn't accepted him with open arms. _Still, he didn't tell Hotstreak to go to Hell. This could all work out. _She smiled. _I'm not sure if it will, but it's possible Everything I know of Richie- which isn't much, but is enough- argues that his heart is open to loving more than one person. I think he and Hotstreak and Virgil will make a happy group._

She rolled over. _That's assuming Hotstreak can keep from nursing his injured pride. It's obvious he's head over heels for Richie; now if he can keep his mouth from screwing up the good thing in his future, he might actually get it._

Talon snuggled own, closing her eyes. Alva deserved to be barbequed, she thought, but she was too tired to muster up much fury. It was enough that she was safely. Dimly, she wondered how long it would be until the headache vanished. _Maybe I'll have to rob a drugstore in the morning. Hopefully Static and Gear will be too tired to follow up on me. And if not, I'm almost tempted to say a nice, peaceful jail cell would be good right now. _She smiled. _No, I may be tempted, but that's not true. Because knowing my luck, I'd be stuck right next to Ebon and have to listen to him dream about the whore he lost._

Remembering the look of Gear's eyes when he'd been looking at Alva after Static and Hotstreak saved Junior.

_And I'm back to Hotstreak again. I sweat, that idiot's going to keep himself from being happy just because he's too stubborn to admit everything he really feels all at once. _She yawned. _Well, I'll worry about Hotstreak in the morning. He won't crash that ship at least until then._

oOo

HOLY BIBLE

The gold leaf writing always made Sean smile. He imagined his soul would look so shining and pure by the time he sat at the right hand of God. Opening the book, he gazed at the inside front cover. Under a cursive word- marriages- his own marriage was listed. He shook his head and wondered if Maggie was all right. _I'm not worried about her soul, but she probably misses me. I miss her, but there's something more important to us both: the immortality of our son's soul. I'm sure she understands. _He moved his eyes down to the word "births," also in cursive writing. _Richard Osgood Foley _was written there. _I have written your name in the Book of Life, saith the Lord, and none may erase it. _Sean nodded to himself. _I'll make sure your name stays in that book, Richie._

He glanced up when someone knocked on his door. Leaving the Bible on the pallet that had been serving him as a bed. He'd been at the teaching facility for weeks now, but it seemed like longer. He loved attending the meetings and being able to see the conformity around him. The facility would be perfect for Richie. But, at the same, Sean grieved to be away form his son for so long. So even though he was supposed to be reading his Bible, he had really been waiting for someone to knock on his door and tell him the result of the secret meeting that had been called to deal with his problem.

"Please come in," Sean said as he stood, trying to hide his nervousness. Would they decide to go back for Richie now or would there be more waiting?

Jacob took Sean's hand as soon as he entered. 'We'll be seeking out Richie after Christmas. First, we can't travel well turning that season without being seen. Second, God has told me the Rapture of the Church won't happen until after Christmas, though He didn't tell me how much after. Richie will be safe until we can bring him here. God has promised me this."

Sean tried to hide his disappointment. _At least he'll be her before another year is up. And I know we must be cautious. Still… it hurts to think of him being surrounded by sin and temptation every night. _"Thank you. Will I still have a part in rescuing my son?"

"Of course you will, Sean. And don't look so worried. Satan won't steal Richie before we reach him. God will triumph. I promise you, and the Almighty promises you." He smiled. "By Richie's next birthday, he'll be here and we'll be celebrating his rebirth in Christ." After another nod, as if he had completely convinced himself, Jacob left.

Sean sank onto his pallet. _I love you, Richie. I'll come for you soon. Just hold on a little longer. I promise everything will be all right. Just hold on, my son. Call on God and He will answer you. Even in the midst of Satan's greatest temptation, God will answer you if you call. Be strong, Richie._

He opened his Bible and set himself to wait as long as it took. _If God loses one sheep in a hundred, he goes out to find the lost sheep and carries it home on His shoulders. Find Richie, God, and don't let Satan destroy him. This I pray in your Son's name. Amen._

An image of fire filled Sean's mind and he closed his eyes, focusing on it. A soft breeze stirred his white robe and he smiled at the others about him who were also dressed in the color of purity. Above them, the sky glowed with a million stars. Before him, Virgil Hawkins had been tied to a stake. Wood was piled around his feet and he'd been doused with quick-burning oil. He screamed as the torch was touched to the kindling about his feet. "Richie! Richie, don't let them do this!"

Richie, also in a white robe, was standing beside his father and Sean felt the boy's presence at his side like a warm weight. "You should have thought about what would happen before you raped me," the boy said, his gaze unflinching. "Look at it this way. The burning you're about to suffer is nothing compared to the fires Satan's imps have readied for you."

Sean smiled. _Yes, that is what will happen when I have a chance to show Richie God's path. We will stand together and watch Virgil Hawkins burn._

o-----------------------------o

tbc…


	18. Book Four: Apart Again

**A/N:** A bit longer than usual, but you know Hotstreak: he just won't shut up sometimes. Seriously, though, HS needed to be heard. He deserves it after all he's gone through.

**Episode in this chapter:** Wet and Wild (Episode 50.)

**Episodes "covered" (ahem) between the end of Book III and this chapter:**

46. Hoop Squad

47. Now You See Him…

48. Where the RubberMeets the Road

49. Linked

These episodes took place in the universe of this book, but have no direct bearing on the story.

**Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! Danger!** I'm anticipating two chapters after this one before the story's complete, maybe three. I'm only saying this because I promised some readers I would warn them in case they're like me and don't want to read the ending right away. But it's not here yet; I'll make sure to post a nice, large warning on the final chapter.

_**Thank you to Miss Manga for reviewing!**_

Unt now: on vis de story!

Book IV

Chapter One: Christmas, 2003: Apart Again

Richie would later remember it as the first, troubled Christmas of adulthood. Yes, he was, for the first time, Christmasing away from his parents, but he was also with people that loved him, people he wanted to make happy. So where he lived didn't mark the Christmas apart from others. His foster parents (Mr. H included), his foster sister and his boyfriend wanted to hear him laugh, wanted to joke with him, teased him and, many times, persuaded him to smile when he became distracted by thoughts of his former life. None of that contributed to the troubling events that surrounded the Christmas of his sixteenth year.

True, the two months between Alva's island and the reappearance of two of Richie's enemies hadn't been perfect, and he would have been lying to himself if he hadn't admitted as much. Backpack and Virgil fought occasionally, especially once the link between Virgil's mind and Richie's was up and running smoothly. Now the two could hear each other's thoughts as they used Richie as a conduit. And neither of them restrained their thinking, insulting each other freely and often. But since they both loved Richie, their fights were more like childish spats than declarations of war. Richie often played mediator, and if he got too annoyed, he simply blocked them both out of his head and left the room so they could argue without him. But, their arguments aside, the eight weeks hadn't gone badly, all things considered. The three of them had managed to take care of several rampaging Bang Babies and it looked as though Dakota might be safe for the holidays.

Hotstreak was absent for the two months between the escape from Alva's island and Christmas, and even though this wasn't surprising, it was shocking when he at last showed up.

oOo

Richie settled himself on Virgil's bed and watched his boyfriend hang electric lights around the room. "So?" the blonde asked, sitting cross-legged on the blue comforter. He'd done his part, gotten up enough courage to tell Virgil what he'd promised Hotstreak. Now, after giving Virgil time to think, it was time to hear what his boyfriend thought.

"So what?" Virgil scowled at the bad hanging job he'd done on one wall and fixed it with his powers. "There." He caught up another string of lights and began the process again.

Richie wondered how long it would be before Virgil stopped trying to do it by hand and just used his powers. "So have you thought about what I said? Your three weeks are up. Actually, they were up yesterday, but I decided to give you a little extra time."

The lights were getting tangled. Virgil cursed under his breath and began untying them by hand, knowing his powers would make things worse. "Can you invent some string-lights that don't get tangled?"

"Yeah, sure. All I'd have to do is coat different parts of the wire with the same electrical charge so they'd repel like magnets and… Hey! Quit changing the subject!"

Virgil snickered. "Works every time… Uh, Rich, could you maybe work those up for next year? I can't spend my entire night hanging this stuff. I do have homework."

Richie pillowed his head on his arms and grinned. "As I recall, you were the one who insisted on decorating this room yourself. I've already finished mine."

"Yeah, well that's because homework takes you like a third of the time it takes me. And how could I just leave my room in your hands? I'd be afraid of coming back and seeing what you did to it." Giving up, he tossed the lights at Richie. "Here. You try. I'll start on this next batch. Let me know when you figure them out."

Shaking his head, Richie set to work. At once, he saw how the knot had to be undone and set to it. "So?"

Virgil used his powers to hang the next string, then said, his back turned to Richie, "I still don't know. I mean, I like Hotstreak and all… I trust him, at any rate. And I won't deny there's a certain appeal he has…"

"You like sparring with him," Richie said.

Virgil shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. But is that any reason to make him part of our lives, our relationship? Is liking him enough to make us compatible?"

"Probably not," Richie said, nodding to himself as he effectively made the knot half as tangled with one deft tug. "But we both like him more than a friend. If the steps between enemies and lovers were a ladder, he'd be at least three rungs higher than Daisy or Frieda, and six or seven-"

"That's because we're gay, Rich."

"Let me finish. I was going to say: and at least six or seven rungs higher than Adam, Jimmy Osgood or Anansi. Right?"

Virgil shook his head. "Adam's taken- by my sister. Gah. He doesn't count. Jimmy's out of Juvie, but sees a counselor three times a week, so he's out, too. We have enough mental cases in this family already."

Richie tried not to be annoyed or frustrated by Virgil's dismissal of Jimmy, even though he didn't want to be with the mousy boy, either. It was just… _Virg can never forgive anyone that hurts me, even if it was a complete accident._

"And as for Anansi," Virgil continued, "man, he's in Africa. He's way out."

Richie sighed. The ladder analogy wasn't going to work. "Give me some good reasons why you don't want to be with him, Virg." As Virgil turned towards him, Richie tossed him the light-string underhand. "And make it good. You already know I love you unconditionally, so nothing you say will lose you my devotion. I want to know because our red-headed friend is changing and reaching out and"

"You make it sound like he's having a coming-out party." Virgil hung the newest string of lights. Only one to go.

"He is, except it's an I'm-going-sort-of-good party instead of an I'm-homosexual party. Those two aren't as different as you might think. He's lived in one world for a long time. Now he wants to live in another, one with a different set of rules, dos and don'ts. And he doesn't necessarily want us to watch out for him, but he wants to know he has a little support in his new life. It's really hard to change who you are without the help of some friends."

"He has Talon. Besides, Rich, you didn't change when you came out."

"I've always known I'm gay, V." He got a wide-eyed stare for that, so Richie smiled. "Well, not since birth, but I was getting hints as early as five or six years old. Not everybody's like that, but it's not unusual."

Virgil sat beside him. "Hotstreak is… Hotstreak. Would he be happy here?"

Richie smiled. "Maybe not yet. I think he has a few things to figure out first."

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "Richie, do you have telepathy or something? Because you seem to know a lot of things about people without having to ask."

Richie laughed. "I'm just observant, that's all. I'm only a true mind-reader with you and BP." He shook his head. "Get back to work. You still have ornaments to hang up and physics homework to finish."

Virgil collected the box of brightly-colored balls from his desk. "So it's all right with you if we don't say anything to him yet?"

"Well, since we haven't seen him, I don't see how we have much choice. But if we do… I want to tell him we can try it when we're all sure we're ready."

"You're ready, aren't you?" Virgil forgot his ornaments for a moment as he gazed at Richie. He smiled. "Yup; I can see it in your eyes. You have a loving heart, Richie Foley."

Richie blushed. "Get back to work before I die from over-praising."

"Oh, like a plant being overexposed?"

"Something like that." Richie stole a comic from Virgil's shelf and settled himself in with it. "Get back to work or I'll sic your sister on you."

Virgil shuddered. "No need for threats, Richie; I'm gettin to it."

oOo

_Perhaps it was inevitable that I would hear his voice again. How many times has Superman "destroyed" him, only for him to come back? Brainiac is nothing if not resilient. In that way, we are alike. In that way and no other. I understand the purpose of the human race. Now I must make a decision: shall I tell Richie that Brainiac is gaining entrance to his mind through a study of Backpack's circuits?_

_Cons: Richie will panic. Richie will be terrified. Nothing will stop him from either a) running away or b) committing suicide._

_Pros: Well, he would know, wouldn't he? He would have time to adjust to the idea. Whether he could is another issue. And information is always more desirable than ignorance._

_That's settled. Richie must know. I'll just have to exert some authority if he shows any sign of bolting. But until I have to show myself, I'll remain hidden. That brings up another problem: how am I going to tell Richie about Brainiac? At least that's simply answered: I'll tell Backpack._

Gear wondered briefly how the robot would take it, then plunged ahead. _He'll have to deal with it. For Richie's sake._

Gear created a channel between his mind and Backpack, insulating against Richie's detection. _Backpack? Can you hear me?_

_What do you want, Gear? All has been well here without you._

_I've always been here. But we don't have time to engage in the usual drivel. Brainiac is using his knowledge of you to tap into Richie's mind. For now, the computer can't reach more than the surface of Richie's mind, but that will change because Brainiac is nothing if not adaptable. We have to find a way to protect ourselves and Richie. I'm all for telling Richie, as long as we can keep him from running away, probably right into Brainiac's metal arms._

_Where is Brainiac?_

Gear nodded. If nothing else, Backpack was accepting of the truth. Surely the robot had run a quick scan of Richie's mind and discovered the small conduit Brainiac had opened. _I don't know. He's blocking his siphoning of information like an expert. It was hard to believe that he was there at all, except duplicates of Richie's more recent memories were being created and taken _somewhere. _Then I found Brainiac's conduit and the rest is history._

A third presence, furious and overshadowing, appeared between and above Backpack and Gear. _Next time you're going to hold a meeting about an intruder in my mind, don't leave me out. How long have you been back, Gear? I didn't sense your separation this time, which argues that you've learned how to hide yourself. And Backpack, since you showed no shock when he started talking to you, how long have you known of his existence?_

Gear gazed at the mental image of Richie that floated between them. Making himself visible, Gear said, _We were only trying to protect you, Richie._

_Fuck that. I've got God and Virgil to help me and I don't need "friends" like you who lie to me and hide things from me. _

_Richie, I'm sorry. All I longed for was your mental stability, _Backpack said.

_Richie, where are you? I can hear voices around you. Did you just go completely still in front of a bunch of people? _Gear demanded.

_Shut up, Gear. Backpack, we can still be friends, but you need to stop treating me like a delicate flower. I'm just as strong as you or Gear or Virgil. So either get out of the driver's seat and support me, or leave me alone._

_Richie, you need us. _Gear reached out, trying to make Richie look at him.

Richie whirled towards him, his gaze like ice. _Shut up, Gear. I'm telling you this one last time. Speak again without my permission and you're gone. I can kill you if I have to._

Gear hesitated. Did Richie know he might kill himself in the process, or condemn himself to life in a psychiatric hospital? After studying Richie's expression and the fury in his mind, Gear decided that, yes, Richie understood all of that and more: he knew that he, Richie, had a good chance of surviving such a battle and that he could almost certainly defeat Gear. Gear might have the strength and the cunning, but Richie was just as cunning and had the advantage that this had been his mind first. It would be easier for Gear to destroy the Brooklyn Bridge with a plastic shovel and a piece of chewing gum than to defeat Richie.

Turning to Backpack again, Richie asked, _Well?_

The wave of Backpack's sorrow and love swept over Richie and Gear. _Please, Richie… I knew I was withholding things from you, but I convinced myself I was saving you. I swear I won't hold back anymore. Please, Richie, I love you. Please don't drive me away._

Gear expected Richie to take the robot in his mental arms, and so his eyes widened when Richie glared at Backpack.

_We've had this conversation or one similar too often for me to trust you on your word. I love you, but I won't welcome you with open arms until you've proved that you've backed off. Understood?_

_Please, Richie… I was only trying to help._

_I know, which is why I'm not half so furious with you as I am with Gear. I don't want to lose you, BP; you're my best friend. But I'm not going to let you deceive me, either, or hold grudges. You're going to back of from Virgil and he's going to back off from you. I'm tired of playing referee and I'm tired of going away for a few hours, then coming back to find both of you right where I left you, gnawing the old bones and licking the old wounds._

_Richie, only tell me what you want me to do and I will do it._

Gear sensed Backpack's sincerity but refused to trust it.

Richie folded his arms across his chest. _Fine. Remove the shield you've put around me, own up to your responsibilities as my friend, not my God-given protector, and grow up. Act your age, Backpack. You're less than a year old in terms of your actual life, but you're at least my age in knowledge. Start acting like it._

_I will do as you ask._

Richie relaxed, though only slightly, and his voice softened. _I don't like ordering you about, BP. I love you. I couldn't have gotten this far without you. Just let me be the orchestrater of my own future, okay?_

_Okay._

Gear knew he was next. When Richie turned to him, he was ready to either stand his ground or acquiesce a few things if he could remain in Richie's mind.

_How long have you known about Brainiac?_

Gear raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. He'd expected a tirade; he was getting a simple, direct question. _For about two days: fifty-one hours, actually. _Then came the most unpleasant feeling Gear had ever suffered. It was like being striped naked in front of a crowd and pushed out into their midst where they could touch him.

Richie riffled indiscriminately through Gear's part of their mind, his attitude so cold it was almost as if Gear was doing it to himself. That was the worst of it: Gear was made to participate in the striping. He shivered and tried to twist away, but Richie held him.

_Well, I'm glad to see you wouldn't kill me, even if that's only for purely selfish reasons. _Like the presence in his mind, the voice Gear heard was Richie's and his own. Hw winced.

_You're a threat to me, _Richie/Gear continued. _I shouldn't leave you here. Except I like the edge you give me. I'm not sure if I could force us together again. Tell me this: how long have you been independent from me?_

_Why bother asking when you can just reach in and take the answer?_

Richie pulled back and glared at Gear._ How long?_

_Completely separate? Since Ebon raped us. I might have been half-aware before that; I'm not sure._

_How long have you known of Gear's existence? _Richie had turned to Backpack.

_Since you were tortured on Alva's island. Gear connected you and Virgil when you were borderline conscious so that Virgil would help. Virgil was drifting near unconsciousness and Gear wanted to find a way to save you._

_And himself. Thank you. _Now, back to Gear: _You kept yourself hidden a long time. Now I should really get rid of you._

Gear gazed at him, retaining his sullen silence.

_Now's not the time for this. We need to warn the Justice League and then try to find out where Brainiac's transmitting from. Backpack, run a diagnostic to make sure nothing of Brainiac remains in your system. Erase all the files you downloaded from him. Don't retain anything of them except the knowledge of the erasure. Gear, run your own diagnostic when Backpack's done. I'm going to explain this to Virgil._

_Richie?_

Gear was ashamed that his voice sounded so unsure, but he let it go.

_What?_

_I love Virgil, too._

_Yeah, I know. That's why you wouldn't kill me. _Richie blocked the two other voices in his mind.

Backpack had already begun his diagnostic. _I love Richie. I would never hurt him intentionally._

Gear sighed. _And that's why you're more human that I am. You calculate the human factors as I will never be able to do._

_Perhaps Richie will rid himself of both of us._

_You're safe; don't worry about that. I'm the thorn he needs to remove. _Gear shrugged. _I can't say it hasn't occurred to me that he might do something like this, but I was hoping we could coexist. Get to your diagnostic; I'm going to check up on Brainiac. Hopefully his understanding hasn't increased to where he can read more than surface things._

oOo

Virgil had called his pops and sister in the minute Richie stopped responded. The younger teen's eyes were open but unfocused; he lay motionless on Virgil's bed. He failed to respond to Virgil in any way and Virgil became quickly panicked that Richie had gone into shock.

As Sharon checked Richie's pulse, Virgil's pops got the car ready to take the blonde to the hospital. None of them wanted to take any chances. Virgil's biggest fear was that Backpack had taken over Richie's mind again. Obviously, he couldn't share that fear with his family.

Slow minutes passed. Virgil sat at Richie's shoulder, holding his hand and speaking to him softly. He couldn't feel anything through their link and that terrified him, but he kept trying. Richie's pulse and breathing were normal. They didn't speak of shock, at least not in the medical sense. Virgil kept trying to tell himself that Richie had just raised his mental shields, that not hearing him didn't mean Richie's mind had shut down. That explanation got harder and harder to believe.

Robert appeared in the doorway to Virgil's room carrying Richie's jacket. "Let's get him into this. Virgil, you and I will carry him downstairs." He started towards the bed.

Richie sat up abruptly, taking in a great gasp of air as if he'd been underwater for almost too long. This despite his regular respiration, and that scared Virgil more because he couldn't see a reason for it.

Richie blinked once, twice, then looked around at them. At once, he dropped his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I must have fallen into the meditation without realizing it."

"Meditation?" Robert put the back of his wrist against Richie's forehead. "What are you talking about?"

"It's a…" Richie blushed. "It's a Ku Klux Klan thing. The only thing I ever found helpful because it could take me away from my father for long periods of time. You're supposed to go into the meditation to ponder aspects of God's greatness, but… I always used it to escape." His blush was deepening. "I must have slipped into it without realizing it. I did that once in study hall when I was staring at a bird out a window. Scared the teacher half to death." He chewed his lip. "I'm sorry. I haven't done that in so long…" Tears were gathering in his eyes and he wiped at them. "I'm sorry."

Richie's fear struck the Hawkins's and they exchanged a glance. Richie's honesty wasn't in question, but how to reassure him that even though they'd been frightened for him, they weren't angry with him. This thought flashed across Robert's mind: _Foley must have abused him for such slips when they came at the wrong time._

Sharon's thought wasn't much different: _Richie needs to learn what real, unconditional love is, _and she put her arms around Richie, hugging him close enough that he could smell her light perfume.

Virgil, on the other hand, wasn't thinking about meditation or past abuse; he knew something very different had happened. The information was right there in Richie's mind, and easily accessible to him once again. He put his hand on Richie's cheek and kissed him softly, acting just as worried as his family.

_Acting nothing. I'm _more_ worried than they are because I don't understand yet what really happened._

_I love you, V, and I'll tell you as soon as we're alone._

_Is it Backpack? _Virgil demanded.

_Not Backpack; Brainiac._ Richie felt Virgil's wave of shock and answered it. _He's not nearby, but he's definitely still alive. But we need to be alone before I'll explain more. For the moment, we're all safe._

_But a moment may be all we have. I get it. _Virgil glanced at his pops and sister.

"I know you won't hurt me," Richie said. "I'm sorry I reacted like that. I promise I'll get better."

"Everyone heals in his or her own time," Sharon told him. She tightened her arms around him. "Don't forget you can come to any of us to talk."

Richie's smile was genuine. "I know. Thank you."

Robert put his hand on Richie's shoulder as Sharon moved back. "We love you, Richie. Please don't ever forget that."

Blushing, Richie said, "I won't."

Two minutes later, after a few more hugs and words, Virgil and Richie found themselves alone. Virgil had taken a seat on the bed; he was holding Richie's hands in his.

Clear blue eyes met dark brown ones and Richie said, his voice low, "I'm two people again. Gear broke us apart and has existed on his own since Ebon raped me. This time I can control him, but he's still there." He waited as Virgil took that in, then continued. "Gear sensed Brainiac. The supercomputer, using his knowledge of Backpack's circuits and my connection to Backpack, has found a way into my head. It can read surface things only: a few emotions, but mostly whether I'm awake or asleep. I'm working on a way to block him, but you can see the problem with any shield I put up."

"Brainiac would know instantly that you're alerted to his presence."

"Exactly. And that might force it to act before it's ready, but also before we're ready."

"We should contact the Justice League. Maybe J'onn can help. And they can help find Brainiac and destroy him." Richie's face clouded over. "What is it? You don't think they could find Brainiac?"

Richie cleared his throat. "I don't think they can destroy him. Brainiac needs to be destroyed from the inside." He watched understanding rise in Virgil's eyes like the rays of a baleful sun. He waited a moment, then answered that look. "Yes, Virg. I'm the only one who can do it. I already have a plan of sorts."

"No. No." Virgil grasped Richie's shoulders and shook him slightly. "There's no way I'm going to let you act as bait."

"I'd be poisoned bait," Richie answered. "I'd be the means of its destruction."

"But Richie, you couldn't destroy Brainiac before, or even fight him. What's so different this time?"

"I have better mental shields, for one thing. For another, I have a plan. And, last of all, part of my plan involves you and the Justice League being right there, distracting Brainiac and allowing me to work."

"And what happens if Brainiac decides to kill you?"

"It won't be able to. The first thing I'll do is link our biorhythms."

"Can you kick that in English?" Virgil bore down on Richie's hands, desperate to convince Richie to change his mind, but wanting to keep him talking until an answer came along. Besides which, Virgil was genuinely confused about 'linking biorhythms.'

"If I die, so will it. And Brainiac will know that, too. Think of the movie _Dragon Heart_, where the dragon had to die in the end to kill the evil prince." He nodded when Virgil showed his understanding. "I'll be safer than before, but still in danger. The last time I disobeyed your sixth sense, I ended up being raped. This is a little like that, except this time I'm setting myself up to be captured. Probably not killed, but maybe." He pushed on, covering Virgil's mouth with his hand. "Let me finish. I've thought this all out. Brainiac comes back again and again, no matter how sure we are that it's been destroyed. It's a regenerative program, so if even a little bit of it is alive, everything can come back. It's like cutting a starfish into pieces: as long as some tiny fragment of the central disk remains, you'll have a whole new starfish."

"Rihee…" Virgil freed his mouth. "Richie, you sound like an instruction manual. Why are you so calm?"

"Because I've seen the only way and I know if I don't take it, we'll never be rid of Brainiac." He sighed. "And I'll never be rid of Gear."

Virgil's jaw dropped. "You want to get rid of a part of your mind? Rich, no offense, but that sounds-"

"Insane. I know." Richie sat perfectly still for a moment. "But it's the only way, V, for me and for Earth. If you want me to go over this with the J League, don't worry; I plan to. And maybe they- or you- can come up with something else. But for now, I have no choice. I'm going to go forward until I can't go forward anymore. I'm in danger of losing myself to the hateful side of my personality."

"Rich, you can't just destroy that side. You'll end up like Dr. Jekyll. Do you remember that book? You won't be able to fight your other side; it will either consume you or you'll have a complete mental break-down. I'm not sure those aren't the same things." Virgil shook his head, fighting the sense of unreality. _We shouldn't be sitting here discussing these things. I shouldn't be hearing this. He shouldn't be _saying_ this! _He drew in a breath. _But we are; I am; he is. And I can't afford to believe for a minute that Richie will rethink this. I can see it in his eyes; he's made his decision. For good or for ill, he's made it. And he won't turn from this path unless he can be shown a much different way._

_But dam it that doesn't give him the right to forget that I love all of him, even the angry side because it's part him. _Virgil paused, weighed his own thoughts, then told that last sentence to Richie.

"Gear isn't my angry side, Virgil, or even my intelligence or my courage. Maybe he was some of those things when Batman re-fused us, but I've gained much of that in my own right. Gear isn't part of this conversation right now; he's completely separate from us. I locked him up. Do you remember the last time Gear was locked up? I was in the hospital and I made no sense. Do you remember? I was dazed and panicked and confused. Am I that way now?"

"No… But if Gear isn't all those things in you, what is he?"

"Blind rage. Blind panic. He's the personification of the fight or flight response in its strongest, most purest form. Except that Gear is ninety percent fight. He wasn't that before, as I've said, but that's what he is now."

"But Richie, sometimes we need that fight or flight response." Virgil frowned. "It's the adrenaline that gets us moving during a battle. It's the little bit of nerves we feel before speaking in public or whatever makes us nervous. It's a needed part of our biology. You would have slow reactions without it. Crime fighting aside, you'd have trouble moving out of the way of a speeding car without it."

"Granted. But just because Gear is the purest form of that response doesn't mean he's the whole response." Richie shrugged. "I guess I don't know everything about Gear, and so maybe it's not so wise to get rid of him. But I know this: with him, I'll eventually lose. Either he'll take over or I'll go insane." He shivered. "I know what true insanity is now, V; I looked her right in the face. I don't want to end up like my mom. And there's no way I'll let Gear take over. Because even if he says he would never do it, that he loves you to much, he might if he judged the situation with me untenable. Because where I might lack the fast, instinctual reflexes of our species without him, he would surely lack the part of a human that makes us human." Richie closed his eyes. "Then he would forget everything that separates him from the panther, the great white shark, the truly efficient and ruthless killers of our time. Even more: he would lack the female panther's dedication to her cubs because such a thing as compassion would be useless to him. Like a killing machine- like Brainiac, almost- he would rip through humanity taking what he wanted and killing all that he saw as useless." Reaching out, his eyes still closed, Richie took Virgil's hands. "He would kill you, V. I won't allow that."

Virgil tried to shake off a sudden chill. "I'd dodge him, Rich," he said, smiling a little.

"You're less likely to escape Gear than to escape Brainiac because Gear, with his mind like a computer, his lack of compassion, and his ability improvise, wouldn't make half the mistakes Brainiac does. I was wrong when I said Gear wouldn't retain anything human: he would have a human's intuition and ability to act on feeling alone." Richie opened his eyes, fixing Virgil with a determined gaze. "You have to believe me when I say this: Gear would be the indestructible killer."

The chill had settled itself in Virgil's skin, burrowing inwards. He brought Richie's hands to his lips and kissed them. "Richie… I don't want to lose you. And if you say this is the only way to save you, I'll agree to it. Just promise me you won't do anything alone. The Justice League and I need to be in on every part of your plan. I don't know what I'd do if Brainiac killed you or turned you against us. Please promise me you won't go this alone."

"I won't, V. That was never part of my plan. All of you will know each step in advance. I promise. And I won't leave you out of a single decision." He pulled Virgil's hands up and kissed them. "I love you and I'd never leave you or deceive you by choice." He swallowed. "I'm sorry about lying to you about Slipstream, but I didn't know Gear was in control then and I was scared. V, I'm scared now, but I know my plan is the only way. Please believe me."

The two of them came together in an fierce embrace. "I do, Richie. And I love you. I'll protect you, I swear I will." Virgil kissed Richie's soft mouth, then pushed him backwards.

Richie gazed up at Virgil, his eyes bright with a sense of urgency and desire. He reached up and snaked his fingers through Virgil's hair. Pulling Virgil closer, he deepened the kiss.

_This is sort of like the night before we were ambushed by Ebon, _Virgil thought and he shivered, grasping Richie's upper arms to steady himself. _I don't know when it's going to happen, but we're going to find ourselves in a battle like the one with Ebon, alike in danger but different because we'll only be fighting one enemy. But Brainiac is stronger, quicker, than Ebon ever thought of being. _He inhaled Richie's scent, drawing every sense of his lover around him like a blanket. _I love you, Richie, _he sent.

_I love you, too, Virg. I'll always be here. Don't be afraid; together we can defeat Brainiac._

_You're so brave, Rich. _

_I learned from the best._ He moaned. _Please, V… that again. Please._

Virgil moved his hips against Richie's own and ran the thumbs of both hands over Richie's nipples, his skin whispering against the rough weave of Richie's shirt. Turning his head slightly, he tried a new angle, teasing Richie's tongue with his own.

Richie thrust up, raising his head in a vain attempt to bring them even closer. But suddenly, he went still. Then, with a strength that shocked Virgil, he rolled to the side so Virgil was dumped on the floor.

Virgil saved himself from crashing to the floor and knelt by the bed, his eyes on Richie. He opened his mouth.

Richie sat up and drew his shirt down over his growing erection. He shook his head at Virgil, then pointed to the desk, his eyes insistant.

Virgil hesitated, then went to the desk and sat down. He turned to his math book that was open there just as someone knocked on the door. Glancing over his shoulder, Virgil saw that Richie had caught up a history book. "Come in," Virgil called.

Sharon poked her head in. "Daddy and I are going to the store. Is there anything you need?" She might have been addressing them both, but her eyes didn't leave Richie.

Richie frowned, seeming to think. "I know you have the list of the spices we need to replenish, but I forgot one thing. If you could find fresh parsnips, I'll make pumpkin soup tomorrow night before the gourd in the kitchen goes bad."

Virgil could practically see his sister drooling. A craving for Richie's pumpkin soup- _a lot tastier than it sounds,_ Virgil thought- had briefly overswept their house in late October. When everyone's pee started turning slightly orange, Richie had called an end to the soup, though the three Hawkins protested. And now here was Richie suggesting the soup he himself had banned six weeks ago. Virgil's own mouth began to water.

Sharon nodded, seeming to come back to herself. "Anything else?"

Richie shook his head. "If you have a craving for any other dish-" his eyes danced- "just let me know ahead of time so I can make sure we have everything."

"Do you have everything you need to make hat flatbread you served with the soup last time?"

Richie closed his eyes and Virgil knew his boyfriend was picturing everything in the kitchen, opening the cupboards and the refrigerator in his mind to check. "Yup," Richie announced at last, beaming at her. "I'll make everything when I get home tomorrow."

Sharon nodded again and closed the door.

Virgil wondered if his sister would be wiping the drool off her chin any time soon. He and Richie listened to the two Hawkins leave.

When they were sure they were alone, Richie turned to Virgil, who had left his math book and stood. "You have homework," Richie said.

"But?" Virgil sank onto the bed, taking Richie in his arms.

"But…" Richie blushed. "I want you. I know: I always want you. But this… This is different."

_Because this might be our last moment of peace for awhile. And even if it isn't, we both want to consummate our love. _Virgil knew the thought had started in his own mind, but by the time it finished, he guessed they were thinking as one. _Richie… I love you. And there's nothing I'd rather do right now then… _He didn't know how to say it.

_Will you make love to me?_

_Richie… Yes. Yes, if you'll let me._

oOo

The bed sheets, their clothes and a few pairs of jeans Virgil pretended were dirty just to have something to wash tumbled about in the washing machine as Virgil and Richie stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed. Every time their eyes met, Richie blushed, but there was nothing embarrassed about the smile he gave his lover..

"You're so beautiful, Richie," Virgil whispered as they ducked back into his bedroom. Virgil shivered in the breeze from the open window. He left the window open a crack to dispel any… Virgil blushed himself as he closed the window.

Richie had taken the extra set of sheets- identical to the pair in the washing machine- from the top shelf of Virgil's closet. Unfolding them, he set the top sheet and the pillow case aside. "I love you, V."

Virgil helped him make the bed and, when the washer beeped, followed Richie out to put everything in the dryer. _It feels like we're playing house, _he thought.

He hadn't meant to send the thought, but Richie chuckled. _Something like that. _His cheeks were pink again as he cleared his throat. _Now you _really_ need to do your homework._

_How can you think of homework at a time like this? _Virgil drew Richie against him and kissed him.

_Easy. _Richie pulled away. _I don't want you to fail because of me._

_It's not your fault, Rich; you can't help it that you're irresistible. _Virgil wrapped his arms around Richie from behind, kissing the blond hair before him.

Richie wriggled free again. _V… _He shook his head. _Either you get to work or I'm going on patrol without you tonight._

Virgil caught his breath and spun Richie around. "Richie, you won't."

For a moment, Richie couldn't understand why Virgil was so angry. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, nodding. "I didn't mean it. I… I forgot about everything for a little while."

"Oh." Virgil rubbed the back of his head, feeling foolish. "I'm sorry, Rich. I'm just…"

"Protective. I know." Richie finished making the bed as Virgil turned to his math book. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. I love it that you're looking after me." Catching up the quilt, Richie began to spread it over the bed.

He was moving a little more slowly than usual and Virgil, who was distracted from his homework, asked, "Richie? Did I hurt you?"

Richie smiled. "Not a chance. I've just never… It was a new thing, V."

"I can make the bed if you want."

"Do your homework," Richie said. "I'm almost done, anyway." He put the pillowcase on Virgil's large pillow- the same pillow that had been placed under Richie's hips only ten minutes before. With this done, Richie laid down on the bed, turning on his side and closing his eyes.

"Going to sleep?" Virgil asked.

"Quit watching me and do your homework. And no, I'm not sleeping. I'm going to check on Backpack and Gear."

Virgil frowned. "Tell Gear to back off it he gets in the way."

"I'm not worried about Gear." Richie went completely still and Virgil, after gazing at his boyfriend for a moment, turned back to his work.

oOo

_I've never felt so good. That was… that was amazing._

_Glad you approve, _Richie answered, gazing at Gear. _I didn't have the concentration level to keep you and Backpack out. I hope he didn't mind._

_I built my own shield during your lovemaking, Richie, _Backpack answered. _I am quite well._

_Thank you for the privacy, BP. _Richie drew closer to Backpack in his mind. _I love you._

_I love you, too, Richie. _Backpack's answer was the same as ever, but both Richie and Gear could feel how the emotions behind the answer- the gratitude, the joy- had deepened.

Richie smiled. Then he turned to Gear. _Report._

_Backpack and I ran diagnostics. Everything's been erased. Brainiac can't have a foothold in him anymore. But…_

_But now Brainiac will discover that much sooner that he's been identified. _Richie nodded. _I know. Speaking of our super pain in the neck, how much is it reading now?_

_Not more than it was before. _Gear shifted slightly and Richie felt his unease.

_What is it?_

_You're going to kill me, aren't you? That's part of your plan. You're going to send me away somehow when you're fighting Brainiac and I'm going to die._ Like a soldier who had faced death before, who accepted his demise if it meant what he believed in would be preserved, Gear didn't show any fear. Only that slight coloring of unease conveyed his concern.

Richie nodded. _If I have to, yes. But I'm hoping it won't lead to that._

_Come on, Richie, you expect me to believe that? Not only can I read your thoughts, but I just know you better._

_Then you know I would never sacrifice any living thing if I had a choice. Let's put it this way, Gear: you have as much likelihood of coming out of this alive as Backpack and I do. Each of us runs his own risk._

_But you wouldn't be heartbroken if I died._

_I would lose part of myself. Of course I would be affected. Maybe not heartbroken, but only because you've plotted against me from the beginning. _Richie's eyes shone with the threat of tears. _I'm scared to lose you, Gear. If you'd wanted love, you shouldn't have thought of making me your living puppet._

Gear considered that. _I'm sorry I don't have any of the good parts of humanity in me, Richie. That's not my fault._

_I know. And if I could reabsorb you, I would. But we'll always be split. I can feel it._

_So what will you do with me if I live?_

Richie considered that. _I'll give you two choices. Either you can inhabit a computer body, like Backpack or I can build you an android body. _He read the question in Gear's eyes. _Under no circumstances will I allow you to stay in my head. Even if you had the best intentions in the world, Gear, you'd still be a threat to me and those I love._

_Because I can't help myself. _Gear sighed. _I'm like a drug addict who's beyond help. _He sighed. _So be it, Richie. Though I don't know if sticking me in another body would make me any less dangerous._

_True, but I could ask the Justice League to look after you. Maybe J'onn could even find a way to intertwine some human consciousness with your calculations._

_Too bad you can't give me a part of yourself._

_If I could, I would. But we've already tried that. here's nothing more I can do._

_Perhaps you could program Gear with the artificial intelligence I have developed, _Backpacked said. _You did not build ti, but it has become physical circuits and relays._

Gear spoke before Richie could. _That would be ideal. Please don' ever think I like killing people or putting my own concerns first, Richie. _He held a hand out to Richie. _Shake on it? If I live through this, and if you do, you'll build me an android body and give me the way to develop my own artificial intelligence?_

_I can only do it if all three of us survive, _Richie answered, _because we would need Backpack, too. _He took Gear's hand, shook it firmly. _But I agree._

_Excellent. I will agree to support this idea of yours to the best of my ability. _Gear's smile was wry. _I do so for my own protection, but I hope you understand that I _wish_ I was doing it for all of us._

_I know._ Richie looked between the two other personalities in his mind. _We have to contact the Justice League. Before anything else can happen, we have to find Brainiac and I have to learn a little more about mental shields. _He frowned, suddenly tense. _Do you think Virgil's at risk now that he can connect to me?_

_I doubt it, _Backpack said. _After all, Brainiac does not know of your connection._

_But he might be if Brainiac gains entrance to your innermost memories, _Gear said. _Virgil should learn how to shelter his mind, too._

Richie nodded. _Then we'd better get started. BP, will you send a copy of this conversation and my plan to the Justice League? I'm going to… _He yawned. _I'm going to…_

_You're going to get some sleep, _Gear said. _You're done in, at least for the day. You want all your wits about you when you talk to Batman, Green Lantern and the others._

Richie hesitated.

_Please sleep, Richie. Gear and I will keep watch and make sure the Justice League knows everything._

Richie yawned again. _All right. Thank you both. _He passed easily from wakefulness to sleep.

Backpack sent, _I am amazed how sincere you are, Gear. It is as if you will actually keep your promise._

_Can't you feel I was telling the truth?_ Gear groaned. _I'll say this much for Richie: when he puts others in danger, he's in just as much, if not more, danger himself._

_Is that why you agreed?_

Gear laughed. _Is that what you really think? I only wish I was that altruistic! No, Backpack, I agreed because I have no choice._

oOo

Hotstreak glanced around him one more time before making his way down the last street. No one had followed him here, but he had to double check, to make sure he hadn't been spotted n the last few minutes and stalked. Most likely, even if he had seen someone, that person was only following him because he or she had nothing better to do. But casual interest could turn into something much more if it was discovered that Hotstreak had any tie to his old life.

Nodding, satisfied, Hotstreak hidden by a trench coat and a fedora, made his way to the familiar front door. He knew the occupant was inside and hat she was alone. He'd watched her from a distance for weeks before he'd felt comfortable with her routine and her lack of friends and family who came to visit her. Readying himself for the sparkling eyes and the worn face that would greet him, Hotstreak rang the bell.

The sound echoed inside for a moment. Hotstreak fidgeted on the steps and lanced around once more, feeling unsure. He hadn't really _stopped_ feeling that way; it was just that he wanted to tell this one person what was happening to those he knew, what might happen to him if he couldn't stop it, or if he decided not to.

The door opened a crack. "Hello?"

"Hi. It's Francis. Can I come in?"

She didn't throw the door wide open; that wasn't her way. Maybe it had been once, when she was a girl. But suffering had made her quick and discreet in her movements. She opened the door enough so he could slip in, then closed it behind him, locking it. She didn't turn the light in the front hall on, but led him back to the living room where one lamp was lit.

Hotstreak inhaled the familiar scents of wood polish, home cooking and vanilla candles. He took off his hat and coat as he went, stopping at the hallway closet just outside the living room to put his things away.

In the soft glow of the single lamp, his hero turned to him, her eyes filled with love and hope and a happiness so urgent it was painful. She opened her arms to him and Hotstreak went to her, wrapping her in his strong arms and shuddering when she began to weep.

He cried a little himself, unashamed now that he'd finally decided to come home. "Aunt Sue." Speaking her name made his tears flow faster, but he didn't care.

She didn't speak, but tightened her hold on him. One delicate hand reached up to touch his hair, moving through it as though she was soothing some frightened animal.

"I missed you," he said.

"I love you, Francis." She pulled back a little and gazed up at him. "You're taller." Her eyes glowed like the lamp. "You're handsome. You look a lot like my father in his younger days." She touched the yellow streak in his hair. "Except for this, of course. But I always liked the gold in you. You'll always be my resilient phoenix." She retreated to the couch, urging him to sit beside her. "Are you hungry? Should I feed you? Or is this only a short stop?"

"I have to leave tonight," he said. "I'm sorry. But I have to tell you…" He shook his head. "I wouldn't say no to a little supper, but I can't stay past three or four in the morning."

She nodded. "I'll call in, tell them I'm sick. We can stay up all night."

"Will the hospital believe you're sick? You're still at the hospital; I saw you there, still behind the switchboard counter."

She smiled. "They'll believe. I look a dreadful sight most of the time." His aunt stood. "Let me call them and finish healing up the soup." She reached out, touched his shoulder. "Will you stir it for me?"

He was on his feet at once and striding towards the kitchen.

As she made her call, Francis/Hotstreak/F-Stop (oh how she'd hated that nickname!) breathed in the smell of her pumpkin soup. He'd never had it anywhere else; most people, if he decided to ask them, didn't know what it was. And most of those grimaced, saying it sounded disgusting. _What do they know? They've never had real food until they've tasted Aunt Sue's cooking. _He stirred the soup, listening to the cadence of her voice as she spoke to her boss.

When she was done and the soup was heated, they served themselves, took hunks of bread form the fresh-baked loaf and retired to the kitchen table, sitting across from each other so they could watch each other while they ate.

"You've fallen in love," she said as the meal moved towards its close and they were sopping the last of the soup up with their bread. "Don't try to deny it; I can always tell. What's the lucky one's name/"

He laughed. How like her to refrain from any expectation of gender! How like her to realize that years had passed and, even the two of them were as comfortable as they had ever been, that time had still run between them. "Their names are Richie and Virgil. Richie Foley- the boy in the papers- and his lover, Virgil Hawkins, son of the guy who runs the Freeman Community Center." He waited, curious how she would take this.

She pondered as she chewed the last of her bread. "Richie Foley struck me as amazingly strong for all he suffered. Is he also weak in some way or has he been hardened by all the abuse?"

"He's strong and weak. He can fight; I've seen him defend others amazingly well. But he likes to be held and sheltered. He's as beautiful as the lake we used to walk around, and just as natural. Richie doesn't put on any airs."

She smiled to hear her own oft-used phrase on his lips. "I'm glad. Tell me about Virgil."

"He doesn't like feeling weak, but I can understand that. For the longest time, he was all Richie had, so he had to be strong no matter what. Richie's changing him from angry to something a little more civilized." He laughed. "So there's hope for me yet. Richie and Virgil are changing me, too. I haven't been on the news lately. Have you noticed?"

"I always notice." Laughing, she said, "Who else do I have to look after besides you, Francis? Of course I watch. You're different now; you've stopped attacking those superheroes, Static and Gear. And you've stopped stealing so many things."

"I don't want to go to jail anymore," he answered. "And I don't want to force Static and Gear to fight me." He leaned forward and took her hand. There was no thought of asking her to keep a secret; she wouldn't tell. "Virgil and Richie are Static and Gear."

She gasped, then nodded. "Then I really don't have to worry about you anymore." She stood and took her bowl to the sink. He followed. "I'm glad you've found love, Francis. And I'm proud of you for choosing love over hate."

Along about midnight, Hotstreak got up the courage to tell his aunt about Dr. Todd and his plans for making Bang Babies "normal." And once he'd found his bravery, seizing it about the neck like a bottle of cheap, strong wine, he couldn't stop telling her.

"Aquamaria had gotten out of jail on good behavior. Ebon, Ferret, Kangor, Shiv, Carmen Dillo, Slipstream, Replay and Replikon are still on lock-down, but Aquamaria's a sweetheart. She doesn't really want to hurt anyone. She never had Talon's anger or the thirst for power the rest of us had. She helped Ebon, but she felt no loyalty to him.

"She and I went on a little shopping spree, not really for money, but for fun." He held up a hand. "I know you don't approve."

"I'm not saying anything, Francis. Tell your story."

He loved her for that. He closed his eyes for a moment, collected himself, and went on. "We hit a CD store where a famous rock star- Candeed- was autographing her music for all her Dakota fans. Aquamaria and I were going to grab the cash and split, but…" He sighed. "Static and Gear- Virgil and Richie- showed up. I reminded Aquamaria that she would take care of Static and I would get Gear. I knew she couldn't do more than short Static out and I knew I could take out Gear without hurting him. It didn't work that way. Static flew at me, leaving Aquamaria to face Gear. At first, she didn't fight him, though. She threw water at Static, shorting him out. But before we could get away, Gear threw a Zap Cap- one of his little grenade things- at her. She froze solid. I didn't know he had an invention just for her. Not that I'm surprised; since he started fighting alongside Virgil, it seemed like Richie came up with at least one new invention every week. He'd only been in costume for two weeks before he programmed a Zap Cap to douse me with water.

"Well, I blew out the wall of the store and took off. I felt guilty about leaving her there, especially after she'd just been sprung from jail, but what could I do? I couldn't plead for them to let her go; even if they care for me, they'd never show as much, especially in front of a bunch of people. Our love just isn't at that stage yet. Someday, I'll be ready to swear off being a delinquent and they'll embrace me. I have proof that's what'll happen: Gear somehow slipped a note down my pants when we were fighting. As far as I know, he wasn't within five feet of me, but he probably figured out some way to do it. He's a genius, after all." Hotstreak pulled the note out of his back pocket and smoothed the wrinkles away as he laid it on the coffee table.

V says he'll try it if we're all on the same side and if we're compatible. So when you're ready to put down your flaming fists of fury, call us. –Phoenix Statue

His aunt gazed at the note for a moment. "Not the most romantic person, is he?"

Hotstreak grinned and flipped over the note. Written there were words almost too small to read: We can make this work. Have faith.

She nodded. "All right; he seems to understand a little of how you tick."

Hotstreak nodded. "Richie probably knew I was going to escape, or at least thought it was a possibility. Even if I didn't, no one would be able to make sense of those few words. But, just in case…."

"Is that why he signed it 'Phoenix Statue?' "

"Yeah. I gave him a statue of a phoenix in flight for his birthday back in July." Hotstreak grinned. "This was long before I'd figured out that I loved either him or Virgil; I just couldn't help myself. It was an irresistible urge, like having to take a piss."

She frowned at him. "Francis…"

He blushed, ducked his head. "I'm sorry. Guess I should remember whose house I'm in. It was like having to pee."

She shook her head, laughed. "You'll never make for me a dinner companion in polite society."

He grinned. "Hey, you don't spend time in polite society, so what's the difference?" When her smile broadened, Hotstreak squeezed her hand. "Anyway, I escaped and Aquamaria was captured. She was taken to this Dr. Todd, a leader in Bang Baby research. I don't know everything that happened, but I do know 'Maria agreed to try a new experiment that would make her normal again." He grimaced. "I don't know why she'd want to normal again; her life wasn't so perfect before the Big Bang; I can't think what she'd have to go back to."

"Family maybe?"

Hotstreak sighed. "I don't know. All I know is: she wanted to break up the team, become human again." His eyes flashed white lightning and his hands began to smoke.

"Francis, do you need to go burn off some of your anger before continuing?"

It was what she'd said to him when he was young; funny how "burning out his anger" meant real flames now. But Hotstreak knew he didn't' have time for that. Besides, that's one reason he had come to her: to ask her to help him drain his rage. "No…." He uncurled his fists. "I want to talk about this now."

She nodded. "Talk."

"I found out where Dr. Todd's lab was, snuck in and burned out a cable, keeping her from becoming human." He put his head in his hands. "But something went really wrong. I… I almost killed her. She became one with the water… She couldn't separate from it at all. Instead of being a thin, willowy water-spirit, she was the whole river. She hated it, hated being denied when she was so close. And she hated that she was worse off than before.

"I was wandering around, feeling sorry for myself, when she found me and asked me to help her. Now, I'd thought she would have been angry with me because I left her at the CD store, but she was desperate for help, so she came to me. I promised to help her collect the doctor, his assistants and his equipment so she could be turned back to normal. She looked so miserable that I decided I needed to help her. Even if I didn't agree with the idea of being human again, I decided it was her decision to make."

He sighed. "She kidnapped the doctor while I got everyone and everything else, but she made a mistake: she kidnapped him right in front of Static and Gear. Of course, she didn't know they were Static and Gear, but she'd gone to a high school swim meet and I knew Richie and Virgil would be there to support their friend, Daisy. This time, she was ready for them, though; she was so charged up on anger that she would have been ready to fight an earthquake. I think fusing with all that water, not being able to be away from it at all, weakened her mind as well as her body. She was probably three-quarters insane. She escaped Static and Gear and brought the doctor, who'd been at the swim meet to watch his daughter."

"May I ask a question?"

He nodded.

"How do you know they were there?"

"Because she told me, but mostly because I just know them. Knowing Richie, he wasn't just at the swim meet to watch Daisy and be with Virgil; he was probably keeping an eye on Dr. Todd. Because the good doctor wants to make everyone normal. Gear's probably keeping an eye on him." He shrugged. "I can't explain how I know that; I just have a feeling."

"It's all right; go on."

"Okay. Well, the doctor got her back in the little tank she had to be in and started trying to cure her. But he wasn't doing it right; I think maybe she'd absorbed too much water for the earlier method to work." He closed his eyes for a moment a look of remembered panic crossed his face. "When Aquamaria saw it wasn't working, she broke out of the tank and yelled at the doctor. I suggested maybe it was another power failure… Except the power failure I caused hadn't been on the news. Aquamaria figured out it was me that ruined her chance at being human and she'd tried to drown all of us.

"Lucky for the doctor, his assistant, and me, Static and Gear showed up. They'd figured out what Aquamaria wanted and had appeared to do their superhero thing. They chased Aquamaria away- she went into the sewers- and returned for the rest of us." He sighed. "Gear was mad at me, probably because he'd figured out that I'd caused all the trouble and maybe because I'd accidentally blasted Static when I was escaping from the CD store. I hadn't meant to hit him, and he wasn't hurt, but the fact that he'd been injured was enough for Gear. So, when Static rescued the other two, Gear dropped me in the mud outside the little railcar depot where Aquamaria had told me to take everything. It was the only place close to the doctor's first base of operations that had a big enough power supply." He smiled slightly. "I don't blame Gear; I saw him glance back at me before flying off, just to make sure I was okay. Even superheroes can get annoyed. And neither he nor Static came back to capture me after they helped Aquamaria."

Shaking his head, Hotstreak said, "That's what makes them heroes, you know? They wouldn't just capture her and lock her up; Gear figured out what the doctor was doing wrong and they cured her. She's back home now. I hope she likes it."

"You're angry that this doctor may take away everyone's powers."

"Yeah. Selfish, huh? Maybe if I didn't have any powers, I could be on the right side of things."

"It isn't your powers that separates you from Richie and Virgil; it's your anger. Francis, until you learn to work around your rage, you won't be content on the right side of the law." She held his hands. "You're getting better; I remember a time when you couldn't have calmed down enough to tell me such a long story. But you still have a little bit to go. What will you do now?"

He frowned. He'd been so occupied with his anger at the doctor that he hadn't really thought of the future. He told her so.

"Well, the first thing I'd do is see if you can figure out how to keep your powers, if you really want to keep them. Go talk to Richie. He sounds like he might have a few ideas."

Hotstreak blinked. "You think he'd help me keep my powers?"

"He sounds like a decent, caring boy. As long as he knows you aren't going to blast anything, he'd trust you." She was smiling at him. "In any case, it can't hurt to try."

They talked until five A.M. Hotstreak had to go then, as much as he longed to stay with her. They embraced in the dimmed lamplight, hardly able to think.

"I'll come back," he promised. "I swear I will. I want you to meet them. I want you to love them and know how wonderful they are."

"I already love them because they care about you." She kissed his cheek. "Be careful out there."

"I will be. And I'll be back soon." He went to the front door, his mind reeling with everything they'd discussed. But he cast it all into a corner for a moment, desperate to see her clearly this one last time. No matter what he promised, every time he left they knew it could be the last time.

Her smile shone in the dimness like a diamond among coal. "I love you."

"I love you, too." And he was gone. As he made his way back to his own familiar neighborhoods, he made a list of all they'd discussed. His mother's recent death loomed large in his mind, and Hotstreak wondered if she had died happy or just died like she'd lived life: as if it was someone else's life and there was really nothing she could do about it. Probably that, he thought sourly as he struggled home. Probably that, and it's good she's dead because I can't imagine even trying to explain to her my love for two men. He laughed; the sound echoed and he snapped his mouth shut.

His father, too, was dead, but Hotstreak hadn't seen the man in so long that it didn't hurt at all. He'd never really known him.

And her words about Richie and Virgil: don't let them get away, Francis. Don't let anything stand between the three of you. Love them, Francis; never stop loving them. Good beyond the three of you will come to you if you love them.

o--------------------------------------------------------------------o

tbc…

Just as a side note: Is anyone else wondering if Brainiac can actually be defeated? Richie hasn't told _me_ is plan yet.


	19. Ch 2: Brainiac's Way Back

**Author's Note:** There should be two more chapters after this, but maybe three because I didn't know this part would take so long to tell.

**Warning:** No Hotstreak in this one; he's busy figuring some things out. He'll be back next chapter for sure.

**Episode:** Kidnapped, #51 (Only one more to go.)

Chapter Two: Christmas, 2003: Brainiac's Way Back

Static was soaring over Dakota alone as early, winder darkness dropped over the city. "I have to finish my Christmas cards," Richie had said through the closed door of his room, not even letting Virgil in. And then, in the older teen's mind, _I love you, Virg. Please be careful._

But Ebon was still in jail. What danger could there be? True, Onyx, Puff, Carmen, Shiv and Kangor had been released, but Ebon was still confined. What was there, really, to worry about? So Static went alone.

And there wouldn't have been a problem, if not for Puff and Onyx, who, in their old role of cooks-for-hire, had kidnapped Robert Hawkins.

Static was flying along, scanning the busy highway below without much worry when he saw two vehicles, a van and a familiar red car, playing speed-chase through the traffic over the bridge. Static's mouth fell open. _That's Sharon! What's she doing?_

Then he saw Puff lean out one of the windows of the van and use her breath to blow out Sharon's front tire. The car went skidding towards the edge of the bridge.

_No! _Static used his powers to yank off one of the doors and pull his sister to safety just as the car hurled itself off the bridge and into a building. Static's heart was pounding so fast he could hardly speak. Trying to block out how close Sharon had come to dying, he muttered, "Man! That was gonna be my car next year!" Then thoughts of what could have happened to his sister, what Puff might have done to her, stole his breath.

But as he set Sharon down ion a safe walkway and landed beside her, his eyes staring at the car in horror, his sister found her voice. "Oh Static, it's terrible!"

"I'll say," he thought, wanting it to sound like a joke, as if he mourned the death of a gorgeous car instead of the near-death of his sister.

"My father's been kidnapped!" Sharon's hands shook and she stared at the car, too, not seeing it.

"What?" Static's eyes narrowed.

Sharon told him everything as quickly as she could, from leaving the community center to her father being grabbed by Onyx. She ended with, "I tried to follow, but…" The trembling had passed into her arms.

Static put his hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am, don't worry. I'll find him."

"Do you know what he looks like?"

"I saw him in the courtroom at Sean Foley's trial." He just wanted to take off as the rage threatened to drown him, but he had to make sure she would be all right. "Can you get home okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah. There's a bus stop right over there." She clenched her hands at her sides, calmed herself, and looked to him. "Please bring him home."

"I will. I promise. Tell…" He'd been about to say Richie- "your brother and Richie Foley that everything will be fine. Gear and I will find him." He flipped out his disk. "Don't worry," he said again.

"How do you Richie's with us?"

Static paused for one more moment. "Gear and I watch everything," he answered. Then he flew away. Onyx and Puff were long gone, of course, but what he'd said was true to a certain extent. He and Richie had been keeping tabs on the sprung Bang Babies. And if he couldn't find Puff and Onyx, there were those he'd be able to track down in a hurry.

As he tore through the city, searching for Kangor first, he thought of contacting Richie. But no; Richie needed to be home to calm Sharon. Static closed a shield around his mind. He wasn't sure if Richie could read him from so far away, but he wasn't going to take any chances. Let Richie be the calm one to help Sharon; he was good at that.

Feeling a little guilty, but not wanting Richie to see his rage, Static hunted Dakota's streets like the panther Richie had spoken of only a week ago.

He found Kangor, who didn't know anything, found Carmen, who said Shiv knew, found Shiv at last, and watched in frustration as Shiv fainted before his interrogator's terrible fury. At last, the sky was lit up with a combination of gas and flame. Static snarled. He'd found Puff.

She was waiting for him, of course, taunting him. Onyx tried to attack him, but Static slammed him back against a wall, never taking his eyes off Puff.

"Why did you kidnap Robert Hawkins?" Electricity ran up and down Static's arms, concentrated in his fists.

"Deliver the message, Puff!" Onyx said. "This guy means business!"

Puff pulled a piece of paper out and shoved it into Static's hands. Stepping back, she tried to get clear of him.

The paper held only a simple address, the location of a junk drop. _Who do I know who knows my identity and would hide in a dump? _Slipstream came to mind, and Static grimaced, thinking he wouldn't mind an excuse to get Slipstream, both for his father and for Richie. He glared at both Bang Babies. "If this is a trick, you won't be able to run far enough." He was in the air and gone a second later.

As he flew, Static thought, _They were afraid of me. Kangor, Carmen, and Shiv were afraid, too. I must look really scary. _Then he thought of Slipstream again and vowed that if Slipstream had hurt his pops- _Wait. He doesn't know who I am. He only knows who Richie is. Did he see us together? _That was how Ebon had guessed he might be Static in early spring. _Well, whoever it is, whoever kidnapped him, they're going to have to answer to me._

He set down in the junk drop and shouted, "Hello? Anybody here?"

A door opened in a pile of garbage, Static considered it for a moment, then nodded. _Fine. We'll play it your way. For now._

A woman waited for him in the shadows across from the opening elevator doors. Her hair was black, her face pale and slender, too pointed to be beautiful or even pretty. The red of her shirt made Static think of blood, and he couldn't understand why he was so afraid. This was just one more villain, one more person to defeat. One more battle.

She chuckled. "Hello, Static. Or, should I say, Virgil Hawkins?"

He gaped at her. Strange how he could never master his initial reaction to the declaration of his secret identity. "Lady, you have me confused with someone else."

"I know who you are," she said, and, turning, she activated a huge video screen. It showed him the flying camera that had followed him home the night before Virgil had escorted Richie, who's systems had been invaded by a computer virus, back to the gas station so he could reprogram everything from scratch. Backpack had been untouched, but only because Backpack was able to catch the virus before it spread everywhere.

_Then I went home, ready to tell Pops and Sharon Richie had gone out to dinner with Bernadette and John. The house was empty, so I took off my costume in the house instead of flying somewhere else. _He hated himself for what he had to admit next. _I was careless, taking my mask off right in front of a window like I did. Idiot. _He watched on the screen as the camera showed him taking off his mask and running a hand through his hair. Well, it was too late to deny anything. And why did he even try? Nine times out of ten, it didn't work anyway. "Where's my father?"

She punched a few keys on her console and Virgil stared at the image of his father trapped within a cage of lasers. Virgil saw at once how the lasers could be moved to shrink the cage, expand it… or kill the person trapped inside. "Who are you?"

"Call me Omnara. Edwin Alva hired me to create a vast, supercomputer network…"

_Supercomputer… Brainiac… _Virgil hid his fear better than his surprise. Best to let the crazy lady talk; she might provide the answers he needed. _And hopefully I'm just jumping to conclusions. Hopefully her work has nothing to do with Brainiac. Because Richie's plan isn't quite ready yet, and he's not here to implement it even if it was. _Virgil wondered if he should open his mind to Richie. _Not yet. Just in case._

Images flashed on the screen from every corner of the globe. There was no doubt hat these were up-to-the-minute security devices. "…linking every satellite, every camera, every surveillance device in the world," Omnara continued.

"Why?"

"For one purpose only," Omnara answered, not seeming to hear how relieved her little trapped fly sounded. "To discover your secret identity."

Virgil couldn't help being relieved. Even if Alva was trying something again, at least it wasn't Brainiac. _I'd take Alva any day. _"Alva knows who I am?"

The look on her face was decidedly smug and she brought her hand to her heart in an immodest imitation of a half-bow. "No. I took that valuable data with me when I left."

_Of course. If she was still in Alva's good graces, she wouldn't be hiding in an underground laboratory. Still, this place is so tricked out she must have had it ready _before _she split. One creep deceives another. Now, next question: _"Why'd you kidnap my dad?"

She held her hand out to him, extolling him, almost, like a minister would speak to a congregation. "To get your help jump-starting my _real_ project. I want you steal my equipment back from Alva Industries."

"Why don't you just use Puff or Onyx?" But he could have answered that question himself, remembering all the low-tech thieves he'd ever tangled with. Great pickpockets, many of them, but technical know-how or firepower was needed for any big break-in.

"They don't have the power or the brains or the motivation." She snapped her fingers and the screen changed to a view of his father.

_Richie would really find her stuff interesting- it responds to more than keyboard or voice-commands. It's as if her very thoughts control it. _His fear deepened, but still he hid it. "I want to see my father."

She nodded, guiding him through a steel door. Omnara issued a warning as the door receded into the wall. "No false moves or my lasers turn him into a jigsaw puzzle."

Virgil tried not to wince as he moved to the cage, standing just beyond the lasers, His father sat on a stone bench with his head bent, his eyes closed. He seemed almost to be praying. Maybe he was. "Mr.…. Hawkins." _Yeah, real smooth, Virgil. _"I'm glad to see you're okay."

"You can drop the act, Virgil." He looked up, and there was no way to read his expression.

"You know?" _Okay… Now what?_

"It wasn't too hard to figure out. Why else capture me to get to Static? And maybe, maybe in the back of my mind I've always known."

"Oh, Pops… I never meant to put you in danger, I swear." _Even Richie, before he became a superhero, was more ready for this than you are. When Ebon grabbed Richie, back when we were fourteen, Richie was ready. Somehow, he was ready. But you weren't supposed to get involved in this._

His pops stood. "I know, Son. I don't blame you. But it's quite a shock to find out your son's a superhero."

Virgil smiled. He couldn't help it. Just sharing his secret with someone new…

"Who is this woman and what does she want?" his pops continued.

"She calls herself Omnara." _Remind me to ask Richie what that means if I get a chance. _"Wants me to steal something."

"What? You can't-" In the man's eyes, Virgil saw the sense of right and wrong rising like a phoenix. Absolute. Stealing was wrong.

"Please, Pops, I gotta." Virgil held up his hand, wanting to stop his father's words. "There's no other way." _Didn't you hear the threat about the lasers? I know you did._

"Virgil, this is crazy!"

"I know, I know!" He forced himself calm. "But I swear, if I ever get us out of this, I'll give up this superhero stuff." _Anything to keep you safe. Anything to keep everyone I love safe._ A flash of something, remembered pain, flashed behind his eyes, but Virgil dismiss the thought. _Later. For now… _"I don't want anything like this to happen again. I mean it."

"If the family hour's through, you have a little job to do." Like her face, Omnara's voice was angular, cutting through the air like a strident birdcall. Virgil wondered if she had ever been even half-charming as a child.

oOo

Brainiac crawled forward through the link that had been made between his struggling system and the virus host. Unable to understand everything it saw (the Martian Manhunter and the others had caused too much damage which the virus only added to) Brainiac tenaciously followed the signal that promised a bigger, stronger computer where all of its need could be met. Spare parts were hard to find on a beach, hidden under the sand by day and taking too much of the night to uncover and then cover its nest again before it could scavenge for building materials.

True, the first like had been forged easily enough: the link to the lower form of robotics Richie Foley called Backpack had been easy enough to recall and reestablish. Only operating at two percent of full capacity, the link nevertheless gave Brainiac a sense of the passage of time, which it would have lacked otherwise. Since it didn't have the energy to emerge each night from the sand (again, all that burdensome concealment) it wouldn't have known how many days passed. But by following the human, Richie's, periods of sleep and wakefulness, Brainiac knew it had been linked to Richie for over a fortnight. How long had it suffered before that, struggling to gather materials each day? No way to know, except that the air temperature was sinking down to below freezing. Not much help there: it might simply be a cold snap before more of summer's heat came back. Brainiac's sight wasn't good enough to measure the stars in their places and compare it to the star charts stolen from Richie's mind.

Utterly frustrating, the freak accident that allowed Brainiac to keep many of Richie's less-helpful bits of knowledge while losing many others. The star charts, mathematical formulae and isolated memories of childhood served only to fuel Brainiac's desire to take all knowledge from Earth and destroy it as soon as possible.

And, even worse, the same accident forbade Brainiac from absorbing all of the knowledge it had stolen from Richie; tidbits came, like droplets of water leaking out of a rusty pipe in an irregular, taunting pattern. So that each time a new bit of data emerged, Brainiac had to stop and pin it down, possibly preventing something crucial from being lost. But nothing so far had helped in the slightest, and Brainiac knew that if it had been human, it would have lost interest in the snippets and ignored them. Perhaps that would have been better; it certainly would have been easier. But Brainiac couldn't ignore any possible fact, knowing it for the chance of salvation that it was.

And now, finally, Brainiac had something to help it. Not through Richie, but through the human's connection to Backpack and Brainiac's remembered connection to Backpack. Something had changed in Backpack recently, but, not knowing what that was, Brainiac wasted no energy in speculation. All that mattered was that the virus had infected Brainiac as well as the tiny robot, forcing Brainiac to retreat a little more so that its connection to Richie was only half a percent of what it had once been.

But, again, the disastrous destruction of the virus granted the discovery of advanced technology not far off. Brainiac followed the trail.

Time had no meaning for the supercomputer as the trail grew hotter; Brainiac was concealed; no need to dig out its nest. And as Brainiac's world grew, as its impressions strengthened, the machine discovered something amazing. With only this tendril of itself, a stream of data that had no true substance, a new body could be forged. First, imprint the tendril of consciousness on a weaker machine. Next, send a virus back to destroy what was left of the supercomputer's rusting shell. Last, continue its plans for Earth's destruction. And while the Justice League looked for a body they would recognize, Brainiac would slowly, in the shadows of the machine world, take over everything.

_Absorption of data prior to destruction of a planet was never accomplished by such subterfuge. As such, this plan may be in error as it has never been tested before. A chance will be taken and failure could occur. But I have almost failed now; working to reconstruct this shell could take centuries. And while I have unlimited patience, worlds change. Before carrying out the destruction of my shell, survival must be assured._

A new thought occurred to Brainiac, and it spared the extra energy to throw up a shield wall. True, now it wouldn't reach the host virus's source for hours, but at least now Brainiac's thoughts were its own, hidden from all spies.

Why worry about spies when none knew it was there?

But something might know. Backpack might know. Why else had the connection between Brainiac and Backpack been affected? The damage could be on Brainiac's end- probably _was_ on its end, judging by the amount of damage the supercomputer had suffered- but… taking unnecessary risks was a human failing. Brainiac suffered from no such impairment.

To follow the path all the way to the new, strong machines was the first step, whether Brainiac was being watched or not, whether its presence had been detected or not. Brainiac forgot its caution- except the shield; it must keep the shield- in the thirst for something better than it had.

oOo

"This is what she calls little?" Static muttered as he hovered above Alva's compound.

Howling klaxons rent the night air as motorized cannons and men with handheld missile launchers made it seem that a thousand shooting stars had gotten lost and were leaping up from earth, trying to get back into the sky. Static wove among these more or less easily, his electrical field telling him when to dodge and when to defend himself. Below him, he gazed at all the innocent guards that were just trying to do their job. _Then again, it was guards like these that captured Gear. _Most of his sympathy vanished.

Crouched low on his saucer, Static said, "If you guys play nice, I won't break all of your toys." He sent a stream of electricity three feet wide and impossibly long towards one of the tanks. But instead of blowing it up, he dropped it on another robot tank. Two down. But the guards didn't even flinch. Standing five in a row, they continued shooting at him as if they were invincible.

_Or maybe they're banking on the notion that I won't hurt them. _Static blasted the ground right in front of the guards, so that they flew backwards. _Well, hopefully they don't mind a bruise or two. Now, if they'll just leave me alone…_

He spoke into the headset he wore. "Now what?"

Omnara answered, "Head for Lab 14 and watch out. You've got an armed chopper approaching from the south."

Static glanced over his shoulder. "I see it." Then, because jokes were his defense in times of stress, "Hey, do you do weather forecasts, too?" Then he had to dodge as the chopper launched a missile at him. Flying up and back, Static grabbed the chopper from behind and used his powers to turn the chopper to Lab 14. He released another missile, then pushed the chopper away. It would spin, but he was fairly confident the pilot would be able to come out of the dive. _Which means it's time for me to get in, grab the crates, and get out._

He did just that, glad that all the crates had been stored in one place. _Huh. Apparently Alva didn't think she would come back for this stuff. _

The minute he was out in the clear, Omnara spoke. "Did you get everything?"

"Everything on your wish list. _Not_ that you've been a good girl." It was either joke with her or hate her. And Static still felt intensely relieved that he was dealing with a human being instead of Brainiac. But for some reason, the idea of Brainiac wouldn't go away. For this reason alone, he didn't call Richie through their mental link. Instincts as strong as those he'd had the night before the ambush swept through him every time he considered talking to his partner. Richie needed to stay away from this. It was just too dangerous.

Back in the hidden laboratory, Static was doubly glad he hadn't contacted Richie. The massive crates, full of computers, reminded him too strongly of what the steel mill had looked like after Brainiac had begun to build its ship.

"Project Omni?" he asked as he gazed at the label on the crate. _Omni… Omnipresent means everywhere at once. Omniscient means knowing everything. Omnipotent means all-powerful. _Suddenly, Virgil didn't need Richie to explain to him why the woman before him probably called her Omnara.

Omnara was working with a crowbar. "It's my life's work. Alva never saw the full potential of what could be accomplished, but I did. It started with a computer virus which I planted in every computer in the world."

"A virus?"

"Yes." Omnara's eyes narrowed as she worked at the large computer before her. "It went off yesterday."

Last night's fiasco popped into Virgil's mind; Richie unable to control his skates, Richie saying, "Backpack just ran a diagnostic on my navigation system and found a worm. Looks like he had one too, which is why it took him so long to find mine…No, this worm is a computer virus." Gear's face hardened as he studied the invader that had dared to infiltrate his inventions. "It's programmed to crawl its way into the operating code. That's why I lost control."

"So that's where the worm came from," Static whispered as he watched Omnara work. She was totally oblivious to everything around her except the stupid computer at her fingertips.

_How did she get into Gear's systems and into Backpack? And how could she do all this without outside help? _Of course, Omnara might just be incredibly smart. _And I'd much rather take that then the help I'm afraid she got. But still… to get into _every_ computer…_

She was making her way to another crate. "I'll soon control every digital device on Earth." The crate opened after she worked at it for only a moment. "So not only will I see everywhere, but I'll be able to interact as well." She was moving along the bank of new computers, looking for something. "No…"

"Something wrong?" _Now why didn't I just blast her when her back was turned? Nothing lethal, just something to immobilize her until I got my Pops out of here? _He sighed. _Simple. She's connected to some things by mere sound. Her hitting the floor or losing consciousness could make those lasers move. I can't risk it._

"Alva has the most important component," she answered, "the neural interface helmet."

_I guess Richie's not the only one who has learned to fuse man and machine. _And again he thought of Brainiac.

A remote control in hand, Omnara walked towards the large video screen where Virgil had seen an image of his father. She laughed. "You can't hide it from me, Alva." Images flashed across the screen. "A quick peek into your network and… Ah!" She found a line of trucks, one of them labeled Alva Industries, heading out of the city. "It's in a truck convoy, headed east."

Virgil didn't even ask what she wanted him to do about it.

oOo

As the clock on his nightstand clicked over to 7 P.M., Richie sat back from the final Christmas card, grinning at the little flying angels on the cover. Backpack had drawn them; they looked so perfect that the card might as well have been bought at a store. But no; the angels looked too much like those Richie loved to be anything but homemade. 'Merry Christmas, John and Bernadette!' he'd written across the top, then, near the bottom, 'Thanking God for all the love you've showed me, Richie.' The inside was covered with more angel pictures (Richie's face, complete with a devilish grin) among them.

_It's perfect, BP. Thank you._

_You are most welcome, Richie. Are you now going to show me the card you made for me?_

_Not a chance, buddy. You'll have to wait three more days, like everybody else. _Richie slipped the card into its envelope and hid it with the others. _And don't you dare peek, either. I've already had to set up traps to stop Virgil; I don't want to have to thwart you, too._

_May I interrupt?_

Richie gazed out the window, watching the snow fall. _Yes, Gear?_

_Static's been spotted flying towards a garbage dump. He's carrying crates marked Alva Industries._

Richie's jaw dropped. _What? No, that's impossible! Why would Virgil… _He stood. _I have to get out there. BP, I'll be at the station in ten minutes. _

_Everything will be ready for you when you arrive, _the robot answered.

Richie checked downstairs, discovered that he was alone in the house, went to the garage, grabbed his scooter, and started across town. _Only last night, when Virg and I were on patrol, my systems went completely haywire. I lost track of Backpack for all of ten seconds- far, far too long- and couldn't fly straight. A worm worked its way into my inventions' operating code. The thing was quick and so flawless it blended into the background of circuitry in my costume without raising a single alarm. That specific worm didn't get into Backpack, but only because another version of the same virus attacked BP at the same time._

_Well, I've got good news and bad news,_ Gear said as Richie parked behind the gas station and hid his scooter behind a broken, half-hung door.

_Tell me. _Richie closed and locked the door behind him.

_The bad news is that I've lost Static's signal. The good news is that yesterday's virus forced Brainiac to pull back a little until it gets a handle on the worm. He's been fighting it like mad all night, but he finally had to pull away from you to really focus on it._

Richie almost laughed as he yanked off his sweatshirt, T-shirt and pants. To think Brainiac, the advanced computer to top all advanced computers, was having problems isolating a virus that had only taken Backpack two minutes to isolate. Richie yanked on his costume pants and asked, _So, where's Brainiac now?_

_Sulking, as far as I can tell. It's managed to contain 97 of the virus, but that last three percent… Looks like Brainiac isn't back to being fully functional yet, either, just as we thought. When it fell into Lake Dakota, most of its systems were shorted out. That doesn't matter to Brainiac, since it can always rebuild. But it's been hard finding replacement parts without alerting the Justice League or us. _Gear chuckled. _And as long as Brainiac is busy, I can continue to spy on it this way. We're close to finding its location this time. A few more days, a week at the most, and we'll be ready to put your plan into action._

Richie slipped his helmet on. _If we find V and he can explain what's happening. _Silently, he called Backpack to him. _Let's put Brainiac on hold for the time being. Gear, please keep an eye on him. BP, let's head to the last-_

_There he is again! _Gear exclaimed and now Richie saw the answer in his mind. _He's headed east, _Gear continued. _He's wearing some sort of walkie-talkie._

Memories of Starburst and how he stole Static's powers not too long ago flashed across Richie's mind. Once he was outside again, he took off. _Well, maybe that explains why I can't reach him. He has his shields up- the ones J'onn taught him last week- but he wouldn't put them up without telling me unless he was forced to._

Richie's eyes gleamed. _If anyone is hurting him, forcing him to do something he doesn't want to do, they're dead._

_Don't let me influence you, _Gear muttered.

_Shut up, Gear. _But Richie was grateful for the reminder; Gear could tell. Richie didn't block Gear, not wanting to go up against danger where Virgil might be danger without what he'd had for two years.

_Even though you fought before I came along, _Gear said. _It just wasn't effective fighting._

_Gear, enough. But once you've checked in on Brainiac again, help me. I'm going to need you. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense that you're most of my fight or flight response._

_Then if I die, you'll never be able to fight crime again. Maybe you won't even be able to drive a car._

Richie didn't eve bother answering. They both knew what might happen once they came face-to-face, soul-to-soul, with Brainiac. Why rehash all the old fears? Enough new ones loomed on the horizon.

oOo

Static caught the truck effortlessly with his powers and ripped open the back doors, at once extracting the last crate. Hopefully this would all be over soon.

He felt a nudge at his mental shields and tensed.

"What are you doing?"

Virgil turned. Richie's eyes flashed behind his mask, but, more than that, he was pounding insistently at Virgil's shields. The older teen realized that Richie meant that comment as both: "Why are you stealing equipment from Alva?" and "Why are you shutting me out? What's wrong?" In that moment, Virgil realized he couldn't protect Richie with secrets. He opened his mind enough to send, _I have to. I haven't gone bad. You have to trust me._

Out loud, so Omnara wouldn't get suspicious, he said, "Gear, stay out of this!"

In his ear, Omnara said, "Get rid of him. We can't allow him to slow us down."

Richie heard that through their link. _V, who are you working for and why? _And, for the woman's benefit, "I won't just stand by and watch my best friend commit a crime."

_Her name is Omnara. She might be connected to Brainiac. I'm scared for you, Rich. You're not ready to fight him. _"Well, you're gonna have to. I can't let you stop me!"

Omnara in his ear again: "You're wasting time. Destroy him. Or you'll never see your father again."

_She captured your dad!_

_Yes. But I can handle her. Brainiac-_

_Brainiac's busy; Gear's keeping an eye on him._

_You trust Gear?_

_I can watch everything he does. He can't shut me out anymore._

Virgil balled his hand into a fist. _We're going to have to make a fight look good, Richie. _He turned and shot three bolts of energy- small ones, easily avoidable- at his lover.

Richie dodged them. _Okay. But then I'm following you._

_That's what I'm counting on. _"That was just a warning," Virgil said, leaving the crate on the ground and flying up so he was level with his partner. "You know if I really try-"

"Dude, I don't know what you're up to. But if I have to fight you, I will." Richie was grinning inside himself like a cat, and Virgil couldn't help but relax a little. The dialogue was bordering on corny, and yet Virgil knew Omnara wouldn't pick up on that, making their little play-acting all the more delicious.

Virgil said, wanting to banish the last of his worries, _Please tell me you're sure Brainiac isn't involved._

_I'm sure. It's still struggling with the virus from yesterday._

_The worm got into Brainiac too?_

_Through its connection to me, hence the supercomputer's connection to Backpack. We're just dealing with a crazy lady, V. No psycho computers allowed._

All this 'talk' took less than time than it takes to tell. Virgil ignited the world around him, filling it with strings of lightning. "Then bring it on, Gear. Bring it on." He shot a beam of light at Richie, watching as the wall behind his partner exploded, throwing Richie forward. Backpack flew off Richie's back, landing nearby, unhurt.

_Be careful! _Backpack shouted in their minds. Then, to Virgil, _Don't hurt him!_

But there was no time for Virgil to reply as Richie threw a Zap Cap that slammed into the saucer, throwing Virgil back against an old mattress that leaned against a wall. _You knew the exact angle to throw that, didn't you, Brain Boy?_

Richie laughed silently, his grim expression never changing. _Would you rather I knock you upside the head?_

Picking himself up, Virgil made a little more string-lightning dance around his hands.

"Static, finish him off and get that helmet to me now!"

Before Virgil could even think of a way to stall, Richie spoke up in his mind. _I'll throw two weak smoke-screen Caps at you. As I fly over you, hit the back of my skates. Don't worry; BP will control my fall._

_No time to ask why you carry ineffective Zap Caps, _Virgil answered as he dodged Richie's blue-smoke bombs. And, as Richie flew past, Virgil struck out at his skates with his power.

Richie fell, letting out a gasp as he hit. _I'm fine, Virg. Get down here and threaten me or something. _

Virgil descended and dropped to one knee at Richie's side. Grabbing the back of Richie's costume, pulling him up off the ground a few inches (wasn't that how all the bad guys did it in Mafia hit-man movies?), he snarled, "You double-crossin little worm. I hate worms like you. Why don't you run a diagnostic to find out just what kind of double-dealin little worm you are?" Sufficiently mocking of Richie's inventions to pass muster, and also carrying the message that yesterday's virus needed to be examined and countered.

Static dropped Richie and picked up the crate. He moved a little more slowly than was strictly necessary, and when he sensed that Richie had had enough time to plant a homing device on him, he flew off, not even daring to think. The fear of Brainiac had come back to him, in spite of Richie's comforting assurances. And his pops needed him.

oOo

_Richie, Richie, are you all right?_

Richie knelt, watching Virgil fly away. Backpack crawled onto his shoulders and Richie touched his robot's arm. _I'm fine. You helped control the fall. I knew you would._

_I am glad you have so much faith in me, Richie. I did not know I could help control your systems when I was not right next to you._

_It's called faith, BP. Now, what was Virg trying to tell me about the virus yesterday? _Then he snapped his fingers. _Of course. Omnara must be controlling it; maybe she even made it._

_No offense, but how could any human make that sort of thing without help?_

_You mean unless she was you, Gear? _Richie had taken to the air, his skates only scratched. He'd be back at the gas station soon enough. _It's possible. A human built those machines on Alva's island._

_Yeah, but she could still be working with something else._

_Are you saying Brainiac has done more than we think?_

_I doubt it, but it never pays to let your guard down._

_Agreed. How is our resident psycho computer?_

_Busy. But I'm not sure what its busy doing. It's like the link between your mind and Brainiac has been so badly damaged that I can barely get any impressions. Maybe that means Brainiac can't read you as well, either._

_Or maybe Brainiac is simply shielding itself, _Backpack said.

Richie and Gear paused, their eyes opened to the horror of that idea. Richie recovered. _I'd better scan the virus and work up a counter-virus to block it._

_I'm already working on that, _Backpack and Gear said in unison.

_Huh. Then I guess all I have to do is find a disk and program a counter-virus in. Unless you two can make me one that blocks Omnara's main server._

_It'll be done in five minutes, _Gear said.

_In four, _Backpack said.

Richie sighed, but didn't comment. He didn't have time for the voices in his head; Virgil needed him to come quickly.

oOo

"At last. I have everything back. Project Omni: the ultimate interface between man and machine!" Omnara picked up the helmet from the computer console- _why did such a tiny helmet need such a big crate?_ Virgil wondered- and positioned it on her head.

_Well, at least Richie's still a step ahead of you. He doesn't need anything like that. And here's hoping he understood my message and can fight her invention with one of his own. _"Good. Now maybe you'll let me have my dad back."

"I am not linking my brain with the network. Soon, I will _be_ the network!" She cried out as energy and information began to flow into her mind. She rose off the floor as the energy created an anti-gravity field around her. Maybe that was a side-effect of the process, but Virgil thought not. Probably she wanted to be able to move more or less freely, just like the data she was sucking into her brain.

"Omnara! What about my pops?"

"Infinite sight! Infinite reach! Infinite power!" Omnara released a blast of power that appeared like expanding circular waves.

Virgil was thrown across the room and against the door to the elevator.

The door opened, revealing Richie. "I got here as soon as I could."

Omnara shot at them again, though Virgil had the strangest feeling that she was just letting off excess energy in her excitement. She didn't seem to be fully in the physical world. Didn't matter; Richie was in the way of her blast.

Virgil yanked Richie down behind a console and watched as the doors to the elevator exploded. "Did you understand my message?"

"Dude," Richie was grinning, "you called me a worm like three times. How could I miss it? You wanted me to examine the virus I had in systems yesterday, right?"

"Right. That's Omnara. She's the one that created it. Now she's using it to plug into every computer on Earth." He glanced at Richie and whispered, "But you and Backpack are safe, right?"

"Yes. Well, thanks to your hint, we deconstructed that virus-" _meaning Backpack, Gear, and I- _"and I've created a counter-virus to block her main server." Richie held up CD in its plastic case.

"That should be interesting, because right now her main server is her brain."

_So, we have it in our head, _Gear thought. _We'll get it into her somehow._

_And I don't think she's completely disconnected from all those fancy computers yet, _Richie answered. "Just give me a minute to upload," he told Virgil.

"I've gotta go free my pops." _If there's a better time when she's more distracted, I don't know what it is._

In the next room, Virgil saw that his father was sitting back on the bench. "Omnara's busy," Virgil said as he stopped just beyond the lasers. "If we move fast, maybe I can get you out." He surrounded his father with an electrical field, picking him up.

"What-what are you doing?"

"Pops, hold very still. Don't even breathe." Virgil turned his pops on his back and floated him towards the laser-bars. _There should be enough space between them. _He began to draw the older man between two of the lasers.

Robert's eyes widened as his belly approached the bars. He grunted, then sucked in his breath, yanking his stomach in as much as he could.

"Almost there," Virgil said.

To distract himself as his head slipped between the laser-bars, he said, his voice squeezed, "I definitely have to go on a diet."

Virgil grinned. When his father was out, Virgil flipped out his saucer. "Hop on. We have to help Gear." _Though, since you already know who I am, it won't take you long to figure out whom he is._

Back with Omnara, Richie had skirted around the edge of the room, using the computers as cover. He crouch-walked to where Omnara was still linked to the largest computer and peeked up at her. She seemed totally absorbed. _Good. _But a glance at the transfer-readout rate made Richie shiver. It read fifty percent and was climbing rapidly. Soon she would be free. _And it's just so much easier to upload into something physical. _Richie tapped a few keys, releasing a CD-drive in the top of the console.

_Richie, the read-out is at one hundred percent, _Backpack said.

Richie slipped the counter-virus into place and sent the whole thing back into the console. _Okay, I'm done. Now we just have to-_

Omnara hit him with one of her circular blasts, sending him head-over-heels and skidding across the floor. _That'll leave a bruise or two. _

"I am now in control of every computer and digital device that exists," Omnara said.

_Except Backpack and my hardware. Does that mean she controls Brainiac?_ Richie shivered even as he struggled to get up. Omnara took aim again.

The crackling of electricity warmed Richie an instant before Virgil soared in, grabbed him by the waist and carried him out of harm's way.

_Talk about a sack of potatoes, _Richie thought as he was carried down a long corridor, far enough to where he guessed they weren't under the dump anymore.

Omnara hit them from behind as they fled, knocking Virgil off his disk so that they all fell. As she closed in, ready to deal another blow, Virgil blasted a hole in the ceiling, jumped on his disk, wrapped Richie and Robert in blankets of energy, and shot straight up.

And for the moment, as Virgil set them down and landed beside them, Omnara didn't follow.

Robert stared at Richie, and the blond teen felt distinctly uncomfortable. _It's like he knows who I am._

"Is that… Richie?" Robert's eyes widened.

Richie gaped. _Crap. I'm going to blow V's secret! _"Uh…" He cleared his throat, deepening his voice. "Mr. Hawkins, you have to understand. The most secret part of a superhero is his secret identity and, well, uh-"

But Virgil was grinning. "Yeah, that's Richie."

Robert's face split into a sunny smile.

Richie relaxed and his deep voice dropped away. "Hi, Mr. H." He waved, glad his blush couldn't be seen.

"Static!" Omnara rose out of the hole Virgil had blasted in the street. "You can't escape from me! I am everywhere!"

_And why does she suddenly want to attack me? _Virgil wondered. _What'd I ever do to her?_

"All I have to do is think of something and it will be done."

Virgil glanced at a cluster of nearby civilians and wondered how long they would stand there, staring up at the live-action screens that were mounted in the square. When would they realize she was dangerous and start running?

"For example… I'm _thinking_ of using controlled army missiles to destroy every building and business owned by Edwin Alva." The screen changed to a scene of launching missiles. "Three, two, one, liftoff."

The crowd of civilians screamed, turned, and ran, even though the missiles weren't heading for them._ And if they were, nobody could run fast enough, _Virgil thought. He, his pops and his partner gazed up at the screens for a moment, then Virgil turned to his father. Something needed to be said. A promise made had to be broken. "Pops, remember that promise I made you?"

His father laid a hand on his shoulder. "Go do what you have to, Superhero."

Virgil smiled. "Thanks." Then, to Richie, "Come on." They took off. "Gear? How long before your counter-virus kicks in?"

"Any minute now."

The missiles were already on their way. "Not soon enough." The two of them flew toward the missiles, sending some off-course into the street and destroying others. But the explosion from two missiles colliding- the last two, thankfully- sent Static and Gear falling out of the sky. They hit the ground seconds apart and struggled to get up.

"You'd be surprised how many vehicles have digital devices in them," Omnara said. "No drivers needed? See?"

A garbage truck behind Gear powered up, lifting him in its arms that were meant to pick up trash cans.

Virgil turned to his partner, but a bus behind him started up. Before Virgil could move, his father shouted, "Look out!" and pushed him out of the way. The bus rocketed past them.

Robert stood and helped Virgil to his feet. "Thanks, Pops. You know, you'd make a pretty good superhero yourself." But the bus was coming back, beeping as it backed up.

"This way." Robert led his son into a construction sight. They jumped to one side as the bus drove through a wooden fence and plunged, back-end first, into the hole below.

Robert shook his head. "That's the first time I've ever had a buss try to catch me.

Back with the garbage truck, Richie freed a Zap Cap from his belt and dropped it on the truck. The explosion blew the arms off the huge vehicle, but blue Richie back as well. He landed with a grunt, then ran to join Virgil and Robert. _Come on, come on! How long can a counter-virus take? She didn't even have any firewalls up!_

"Sorry I'm late. Had a wrestling match with a garbage truck." He grinned. "I won."

Omnara showed them pictures of trucks arriving on all sides. "I have an unlimited supply of vehicles, Static. They'll drive you all into an early grave."

"Why do world conquerors have such terrible senses of humor?" Richie asked.

Trucks surrounded them on all side. _I'll have to fly us up, _Virgil thought. But before he could act, Omnara clapped her hands to the sides of her head.

"No! No-o-o-" Her voice flickered in and out as she wavered between the half-electronic world and the fully human one.

"Sounds like my counter-virus finally kicked in."

Omnara's eyes, pure white before as she connected to the world around her through the link in her mind, were suddenly filled with strange little blue clouds of distorted energy that looked strangely like the smoke from the bombs Richie had thrown. She groaned and tried to talk as she sank slowly to the ground, shuddering violently.

Ten minutes later, as the ambulance made to depart, Omnara was strapped to a stretcher. Her voice pale in the hush of the gathered crowd, she mumbled, "Cannot interface. Too many numbers… to… Cannot communicate!"

"Her mind is totally overloaded," Richie said, repressing the feeling of satisfaction Gear sent his way.

"Well, I guess she won't be _communicating_ my secret identity to anyone. Ever," Virgil said, thinking that Omnara- Dr. Karen Roberts, as she had been identified- would be all right; she would heal. Most of them did. Madeline had, after all. Hopefully, she just forgot a few key facts.

"She won't," Richie said, dropping his voice to a whisper, "but will anybody else?" He touched Virgil's shield, found it still well-established, as it had been since Richie arrived with the counter-virus, and backed off. Virgil was still troubled about Brainiac. _And considering what Backpack said, I don't blame him. I'd rather not see Brainiac try to leap from my mind to V's._

Side by side, the superheroes walked over to where Virgil's father sat, his head in his hands. A look of deep concern was chiseling its way into his features. "I don't know, boys," he said when they were standing before him. "I just don't know. I mean, the idea of you two going out and facing danger every day…" His eyes widened as a thought passed behind them, but he let it go for the moment.

"But, Pops, we've been doing it for a long time now."

"Yeah, and we're pretty good at it."

"Yes, but I didn't know about it before. Now that I do…" Robert stood, turning away from them.

Richie bit his lip, bowing his head. "It sounds like you don't want us to be superheroes anymore."

"I guess I don't."

Virgil reached out and took Richie's hand. If his father said no, it didn't have to mean no… But maybe it did. Except Brainiac…

"But you were given these powers," Robert continued and both teens looked up, hopeful. "And you'll have to decide for yourselves when to use them. For me to stop you just wouldn't be right."

Virgil and Richie rushed forward, Virgil putting his hand on his father's shoulder. "Pops, you're the greatest!"

"The greatest squared exponentially!" Richie didn't care how stupid it sounded; he could hardly contain his relief. He knew Virgil was excited by the idea that he could still fight crime. But Richie was only glad he wouldn't have to fight Brainiac without his inventions. Because Brainiac might come at any time now. _We could still fight Brainiac without his permission… But to have it makes all the difference._

_I'll never understand you, _Gear sent.

_If I can give you part of Backpack's artificial intelligence, maybe you will someday._

"Of course," Robert continued, "you'll have to tell Sharon."

The teens gaped at him. "What? Virgil asked.

oOo

The woman's mind exploded, sending Brainiac tumbling through the remaining distance into the computers still left underground. The supercomputer rode out the tremor with patience, knowing it would pass. Feeling the woman's insanity buffet it, Brainiac drew into itself, shielding everything even more fiercely than it had protected its plans from

(Richie) (_Gear_)

whoever might be spying on it. Having felt even the slightly-acidic touch of Richie's fleeting disorientation and partial loss of control, Brainiac had no desire to feel such a thing again. Perhaps trying to break the human boy hadn't been the best idea the supercomputer had ever conceived of. But it had seemed a good idea at the time.

_I have made mistakes in the past, but I will not make them again. It is obvious now that I cannot know everything about humanity. _But that idea ran against Brainiac's very programming, and it wondered if there was a way to gather as much as possible from each human before killing him or her. _I cannot suffer insanity, but I endured raping Richie and experiencing his fear while he was raped. So I can master some human emotions, perhaps all but insanity. I cannot give that up. I cannot surrender such a wealth of knowledge without at least attempting to gather all the data I can._

Difficulties abounded. Only one human had the connection a machine that Brainiac needed. _And yet… Perhaps the computers here can help me. They are absorbed in nothing but the gathering of information. Surely they can be modified. And if I cannot discover a way, though that is nearly impossible, I know someone who will accomplish it. _Brainiac thought of the beings it had tricked into helping it. _The human, Richie, cannot be tricked, but he may be persuaded. He will do anything to keep from suffering another vision. He doesn't need to know that I cannot deal him another vision. He will submit, will build anything I need built, to protect his mind._

The woman's wave of insanity had long since ebbed and Brainiac turned its attention to assimilating every computer within its reach. And soon, its body could be destroyed and it will be well-established here. And with the connections between the machines and the rest of the world, how long before Brainiac controlled Earth?

_I am still not up to my full strength, so I may not be ready to spring my trap for seven days. But that is soon enough. I have waited many years to conquer this one planet, and then I may at last move on._


	20. Ch 3: Celebrate!

**A/N:** Okay, I didn't know this chapter was going to be this long, but I have a feeling the next one will be even longer. The next chapter will probably be the last, but I'm not quite sure yet. Again, I'll let you know.

**A/N2: Please read the warnings for this chapter!**

**Warning One:** It's _Christ_mas, so _Christ_ianity abounds!

**Warning Two:** Hotstreak is not mine, just as none of these characters are mine. If you don't like what I've done to him in this chapter, please write your own story. I accept all flames, but know that I won't change Hotstreak.

**A/N3:** Okay, now that all that stuff is out of the way, enjoy! And thank you to those who reviewed, and especially those who told me to hurry up and post already.

Chapter Three: Christmas, 2003: Celebrate!

The windshield wipers moved back and forth across the van windows, lulling and hypnotic. They tempted Sean, drawing him towards sleep, but he wanted to be awake for the whole trip. He wanted to spend as much time as he could in prayer. They wouldn't reach Richie before Christmas Day, and he was told they wouldn't launch the attack until after New Year's, but Sean had vowed not to waste a single moment of the journey. He felt like Moses, journeying in the desert as he ran from Egypt. Or Joseph, sold into slavery by his brothers, and now approaching a land he didn't know. But neither of these analogies was exact; the closest was almost sacrilegious, and so Sean shied away from it. But it flitted behind his eyes nonetheless: Mary, Mother of God, riding on the donkey into Bethlehem, ready to give birth to her Maker even if everyone in the world drove her away. He, Sean, was the expectant mother. Inside him, he carried the miracle that would save all mankind. But the only person Sean wanted to save was his own son. And, carrying the hope of Jesus crucified and resurrected, he would bring Richie back to life.

But the happy, feel-good religion had never been the right one for Sean, and he was also willing and ready to deal some Old Testament Judgment to everyone that stood in his way. Like Sodom and Gomorrah, they would fall before the power of God, as wielded by the hand of His most trusted servant, the one who gave himself to continual prayer as he made his pilgrimage. It mattered not that Richie would resist; Simon Pete had resisted, had even denied the Lord three times. Saul had been changed on the way to Damascus, had been remade Paul. If such a thing could happen to a man who had been raised in lies, how much more easily would it be to show Richie the error of his ways? He had the Faithful Foundation; it would be easy to teach him. And if it wasn't Sean was up to that. He wouldn't rest until Richie was safe with him once more. He wouldn't rest in his soul until Richie was at his side, speaking the truth as Sean knew the truth, and condemning those that had hidden the truth from him.

_My son is so intelligent and quick; he'll understand. And if it is as the Scriptures say, that my son has become too wise in the ways of the world, then I will teach him the ways of the Word. The Holy Spirit will move in him and Richie will be taken back by God. He will not be left to languish in the land of the dead and the dying. He will be brought back to everlasting life. _Sean refused to believe anything else. He had been promised as much, and it didn't matter now if that promise had come from God, from his fellow Klan members or from Sean himself. The important thing was this: a promise could not be broken. Richie would be saved. Richie must be saved.

Prayers for salvation mingled with prayers of fire from the sky. Sean meditated equally on visions of holy rejoicing and descending hellfire. And each vision brought him joy as he dreamed of the future to come in less than two weeks. _It is now Christmas Eve, the best time for miracles. All of my prayers will be answered on this night. And even though God hears all prayers and answers all prayers, He will answer these especially swiftly and well, since they are prayed in all desperation on the night of His Son's birth. O God in Heaven, let my Richie be ready to come home when I find him. Let him be filled with righteous anger against his enemies. Let him long for nothing more than peace and his family this night so that he will run to me when I come. Abide in his heart, Lord, and do not let any hurt him. Fill him with joy so that he calls on Your Name in reverence. Prepare his enemies for the fire of Hell, and harden their hearts so that they will have no chance of salvation. Only when they burn in Hell will Richie be safe. Oh Lord, Father of all, hear my prayer in the name of your Son, my Crucified Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen._

More than a dozen hours passed in this way, and Sean tuned out the slapping of the windshield wipers as he continued to pray and call on the Lord. His prayers were heard, though perhaps Sean would come to wonder if he should have been more specific.

oOo

Richie gazed at his reflection in the mirror, taking in the black suit coat, the grey pants and the white shirt. Grinning at the smiling teen in the mirror, he tied his tie and surveyed the result with a critical eye.

_You look very handsome, Richie._

_Thanks, BP. _Richie wrapped himself around the presence in his mind. _I love you. I'll be back by one A.M._

_I will watch out for you, Richie, as always._

_Gear? Any news on Brainiac?_

_No. The link between Brainiac and Backpack is still down. I think Brainiac found another way to achieve its goals._

Richie nodded. _Okay. That means my plan may not work just the way it was devised. All we can do is hope Brainiac will show itself soon. Whatever happens, I have to make myself Brainiac's target._

_There is one way to make sure Brainiac will come looking for you, _Gear said. _That's what you want; that's the first step._

_Will this first step be dangerous?_

_For me, yes. But I'd be in no more danger than if Brainiac had simply come to you. And maybe less, especially if Brainiac thinks I can be trusted._

_You're going to make friends with him, or at least allies, aren't you? _Richie closed his eyes, considering. _It could work. We could even get further if you did that. But, Gear, no offense: I don't trust you not to support him._

_Brainiac would kill Virgil, who I love. For that reason, and possibly no other, I wouldn't help Brainiac, no matter what it promised. _A pause, then, _Richie, are you worried about me? I thought you hated me._

Sighing, Richie smiled sadly. _It's like V said: I have a loving heart, arrogant and simplistic as that sounds. I can't hate you. I don't trust you, but…._

_Richie, if I ever have the opportunity to fuse with some of Backpack's artificial intelligence, I'll be touched by that. For now, I'm just grateful._

_Maybe you're already touched and don't know it. _Richie took in a breath. _All right, Gear; make friends with Brainiac. I'll see you in a few days. Are you sure you can jump from my mind to his?_

_Just give me a moment to force open the link between your mind and Brainiac._

_Let me sit down first. _Richie went to his bedroom door, locked it, then sat in his desk chair. Closing his eyes, he tuned out the world around him. As he opened his eyes in his mind, Backpack drew him close, hugging him, protecting him.

_Will this hurt? _the robot asked.

_It might, a little, _Gear said. _Are you ready, Richie?_

_Just do it. _Richie gritted his teeth against any cry of pain and watched as Gear found the newly-repaired connection in their shared mind.

Gear paused, turning back to gaze at Richie.

_What's wrong? _Richie extricated himself from Backpack for the moment and laid a hand on Gear's shoulder.

_I just don't understand you, Richie. You could just leave this up to the Justice League. You could just let everything go, including Backpack and me. Why don't you do that? Why do you have to put yourself in danger and save the world? If I was you, that's what I would do. I wouldn't give up my life for the billions of people who wouldn't understand the sacrifice or appreciate it. How can you just give yourself over to possible death? What have they ever done for you?_

_Gear, do you really want my answer? You're going to hate it._

_I'd like to hear it anyway. I'd rather go to my own death knowing all of my burning questions are answered._

_Jesus gave himself for everyone. And I love Jesus. I swore to follow Him to the best of my ability. And, aside from my dedication to God and to Christ, I can't abandon V. The same love you have for Virgil is in me, Gear._

Gear grasped Richie's hand and enclosed it in both of his. _If I don't come back, take care of Virgil for both of us. And please tell him I loved him._

_I will._

Richie stepped back when Gear released his hand. Backpack at once wrapped himself around Richie again, protecting him as best he could.

Gear offered them a salute that was only half-mocking. Then he turned, ripped open the hole, and disappeared through it.

Richie's head spun and his stomach clenched. He covered his mouth with his hand, not wanting to throw up; some of what happened in his mind happened in the real world, and Richie had an idea that throwing up was one of those.

_Richie, _Backpack began, _I must close the-_

But the lesion in Richie's mind sealed itself and Richie sagged against Backpack, all his strength gone for a moment.

_Richie? Richie?_

"Richie! Richie, what's wrong? Richie, please…"

Shivering, Richie came back to himself. Swaying, he gripped the solidity of the desk chair and leaned forward, gasping. Sharon was outside his door, pounding on it. Soon, her father and Virgil-

_Rich? I can hear Sharon all the way downstairs. What's wrong?_

_Gear went off to infiltrate Brainiac. _Richie pushed himself to his feet. _I locked the door so no one would come in and see me while I was 'out.' _He unlocked the door and opened it. Sharon was just getting ready to hammer on the door again; her eyes were bright with fear and when she saw Richie, she embraced him so tightly that he swore his ribs might crack.

"Don't scare me like that again, little brother," she ordered.

Due to certain circumstances, Richie and Virgil hadn't told Sharon their secret. So there was no way Richie could explain what had really happened. _Maybe it would have been easier if we told her, _he thought.

_Are you out of your tree? _Virgil cried. _Trust me; it's better this way._

_Huh. _"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He decided not to invent a story unless she demanded one. "It won't happen again."

She shook her head and held him at arm's length. "Well, at least you're dressed." She fussed with his suit, straightened his tie, then dragged him into the bathroom so she could comb his hair. His golden locks didn't stay where she put them, so she gave up after a few minutes.

_Good thing Pops was outside, _Virgil sent. _He doesn't need to be sacred about you anymore. Are you sure sending Gear was a good idea? Won't he double-cross us?_

_No. He loves you, Virg. He would do anything to protect you, and he knows that joining Brainiac would kill you._

_He loves me?_

_Yes. As much as I do. You're the only person he cares about besides himself. I guess that's one way he's different from Brainiac; he has someone to love._

_Is he hurt that I don't love him?_

_As you said once, Virg, you love both of the voices in my head. _Richie chuckled. _Just like me, you love Gear, even if you don't trust him._

_That's confusing, Rich._

_Don't I know it. Now, are we ready for church or what?_

_Yeah, we're ready, as soon as you and Barky get down here._

Shaking his head, laughing, Richie said, "We should probably get going, Sharon."

She sighed. "I guess your hair is a lost cause." She left the room and Richie followed, still chuckling.

oOo

Hotstreak watched Richie and Virgil leave their house, accompanied by Mr. Hawkins, Sharon, and Sharon's boyfriend, Adam. Hidden within the confines of a trench coat, a hat pulled down over his eyes, he straddled his motorcycle, ready to follow them. _They're going to church, probably, since it's Christmas Eve. That's cool; I can slip in the back, watch them and half-listen to the service. And if the church gets dark so the candles can be lit as a symbol of hope, I can probably find my way to where they are and sit with them. Unless they're surrounded by their family. Well, so maybe I'll have to sit a row back. I'll find a way to let them know I'm still there. _As the motorcycle roared to life, Hotstreak snickered. _Maybe I'll write something like "the Phoenix is back" on a hymnal. _Then he laughed, hard, as he imagined Richie opening the hymnal, seeing his writing, dropping the book and looking around for him while all the time the pastor tried to preach. _Okay, so maybe I won't do that. Maybe I'll just wait until after the service, then try to catch their attention before they go home. They'd still have to go home, but they could sneak out afterwards and I could tell them…_

_Tell them what? That I'm ready to do things the right way? I'm not quite ready for that. Maybe I'll just ask Richie if he's figured out how all the Bang Babies can keep their powers. _But hat wasn't enough, and Hotstreak knew it. _I want to be with them. I'm sick of being without them. I want to kiss them. I want to hold them. I want to see them smile at me. And so what if I have to give up being a delinquent? It's a small price to pay to wake up in the morning with the two of them in my arms. If I can keep my powers, I'll find a way to deal with being good. I can give up police chases and anger for them. Hey, this is the season of miracles, right? Anything's possible._

Hotstreak shook himself, coming out of his reverie. He didn't want to lose the car in front of him; do that, and he could kiss all his dreams good-bye, at least for a little while longer. _I've waited too damn long. I need them. Tonight. _Grinning, he sent up a half-conscious prayer of thanks. Not knowing where he was sending it, not caring, he rode on, his eyes dancing with pictures of the near future. _I love you, Virgil. I love you, Richie. Soon, I can tell it to your faces. Then you'll tell me you love me and we'll hold each other. I'll kiss you, Virgil, and then take off Richie's glasses and kiss the bridge of his nose. _Hotstreak blushed at the romantic notions, but couldn't quite put them out of his head. Half dizzy with dreaming, he almost missed the last turn to the church. Shaking his head, forcing the thoughts to continue their run under the surface of conscious thought, he parked the motorcycle in some bushes- it was a stolen bike, after all; being in love didn't make him rich- and headed for the front doors of the church, which stood open so people could swarm in. An errant breeze caught his hat just before he stepped inside and it flew away. Groaning, Hotstreak put up the collar of his coat and slunk inside, hoping no one spotted him.

The sanctuary was unbearably warm and Hotstreak cursed his luck. He snagged a hymnal and a bulletin from one of the ushers at the door, then moved towards the wall, thinking to hide in the back as best he could. He found himself hoping the lights would be dimmed soon and the candles would get lit even before the service started.

But all thoughts of hiding himself melted away, at least for the moment, when he spotted Virgil and Richie taking seats in the middle section of pews. They sat towards the front, though not at the very front, with Virgil's father and sister. Also with them were Bernadette and John, though Hotstreak couldn't remember either of those two going to church. When Richie lived with them, they had dropped him off. _Okay, so I watched every weekend. I wanted to make sure Richie was all right. So I was in love, even then, and denying it. So sue me. _Hotstreak made his way to the pew just behind Virgil and Richie, wishing he looked a little more normal. Everywhere around him, people were dressed in their best, and here he sat in an old coat and tattered pants. _Not to mention a T-shirt that's seen much better days. At least I snuck into a YMCA earlier today, took a shower and washed my clothes. Far better to smell like ivory soap than whatever I smelled like before._

Virgil and Richie were talking in whispers. Hotstreak blocked out the chattering of the people behind him- so far so one was desperate enough to sit next to someone they didn't know- and focused only on the voices of the two he loved. Sharon and her father had left for a moment. Richie's and Virgil's whispered words faded in and out.

Virgil: "…not back in two days, we call the J…."

Richie: "Give… more time, V. We can trust…"

Some lady in the row behind Hotstreak: "Oh, baby, you look so cute! Who dressed you up? Did you mommy do your hair? Oh, baby, it's…"

"…not as if he's proved himself trustworthy."

"He loves you; we can trust him." Richie turned his head suddenly and Hotstreak wanted to shrink back. But Richie didn't see him; he was looking up at Sharon and Robert as they approached, carrying hymnals for Bernadette and John. And a moment after the Hawkins were all seated, the service began.

"Stand, please, for the singing of our first hymn, page 388."

Hotstreak stood with everyone else, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself than necessary. _I'll just mouth the words and get through this thing. _He hadn't expected to feel so uncomfortable, and he was starting to sweat under the trench coat.

The opening was played on the piano just as Hotstreak found the page. _Silent Night. Well, that was to be expected. Now I'll just- _But his thoughts dissolved as quickly as his desire to hide in the back had only a few moments ago. The congregation had started to sing. Richie's crystal-clear voice carried back to him and Hotstreak didn't even bother to mouth the words as he drank in the sound of Richie's passionate singing.

Gradually, Hotstreak became aware of Virgil's rich baritone and he listened to the two of them as they sang as if the words they sang really meant something to them. As if they firmly believed in miracles and didn't mind sharing that belief with everyone around them. Hotstreak sank down into the pew and closed his eyes as the voices swept over him, moving him, drawing at him, compelling him to do something, though he hardly knew what.

The hymn ended much too soon for Hotstreak's taste, but before he could come more than halfway out of his daze, the singing started again. His fingers feeling numb, Hotstreak flipped the pages until he came upon "What Child is This?" Then his body gave up any pretense of paying attention to anything except Virgil and Richie and he sat stock-still, his eyes drifting closed once more. It seemed to him that Richie's voice was like the dancing froth on the crests of ocean waves and Virgil's was akin to the strength of the tide that drove the waves. Sinking further into his reverie, Hotstreak imagined that eh was being carried on the waves, his fire unquenched by the water, exultant cries being torn from his lips as he gazed up at the thousand stars. But his eye was drawn to one star in particular, one that shone much brighter than the others. Hotstreak sent his cries up to it, thanking it for everything he'd been given.

He came awake with a start. Everyone around him was sitting down and the pastor was asking for the ushers to get ready to receive the offering. _Well, here's one way I'll stick out. They'll see I don't have anything. _Hotstreak cursed the warmth that made it all too tempting to fall asleep, the same warmth that muddled his thinking. He shrugged out of his coat and just hoped no one would recognize him. He didn't want to fall asleep again. What if he snored?

The pastor resumed as the ushers came forward. "Oh, most holy God, receive our offerings that we give gladly in Your Name. Amen."

"Amen," murmured the congregation, and Hotstreak was shocked to discover the word had come out of his own mouth as well. _It must be the heat._

The pastor had blessed the fake velvet bags and was turning again to the congregation. "And now, as we prepare to worship the Lord with our tithes and offerings, Richie Foley will sing our offertory hymn."

Hotstreak sat up straight, his eyes going immediately to Richie's empty place in the pew ahead of him. Triple-cursing the close heat, he looked to the front of the church. The piano was beginning to play as the ushers made their way down the aisles.

Richie stood a little to one side in his suit coat and trousers, his hands held up in prayer. His eyes were closed, but as the accompaniment progressed, he opened his eyes and seemed to meet each gaze in the congregation. His hands drifted down, but remained animated. He smiled the radiant smile of a man who knows and counts his blessings daily. "I wonder as I wander/Out under the sky/How Jesus the savior/Did come to die."

The world opened up around Hotstreak; he couldn't have explained what that meant if asked, but he knew it was true. He didn't close his eyes this time, but was caught by the love in Richie's eyes and the expressive movement of the younger man's hands, so white and fragile in the light. Only then did Hotstreak realize that the lights had been dimmed slightly, encouraging all eyes to turn to the stunning angel in front of the altar.

"To save lowly people/Like you and like I/I wonder as I wander/Out under the sky." Richie's eyes widened suddenly and Hotstreak realized he'd been spotted. The pianist continued, unperturbed, and it was a good thing that there was a small interlude between verses. Richie took a step forward and reached out with one hand, his eyes filling with tears. But he smiled through his tears and came in just when he was supposed to. "When Jesus was born/It was in a cow's stall/With shepherds and wise men/And angels and all." His eyes went to Virgil, then back to Hotstreak. Again, he took a step, and his gaze pleaded with Hotstreak to hear something, to understand something. "The blessings of Christmas/From heaven did fall/And the weary world woke/To the savior's call."

More piano. Richie relaxing a little, scanning the congregation again, meeting every gaze once more. But when he sang the last verse, his eyes were drawn back, first to Virgil, then to Hotstreak. His tears hadn't disappeared, and he hadn't wiped them away. One brimmed at the corner of his eye, ready to fall. "I wonder as I wander/Out under the sky/How Jesus the savior/Did come to die/ To save lowly people/Like you and like I/I wonder as I wander/Out under the sky." Everything stopped for an instant, frozen like a far-of star in the night sky, shining but unable to move on its own. Then Richie sang, unaccompanied, "To save lowly people/Like you and like I/I wonder as I wander/Out under the sky."

Another beat of silence, in which Richie bowed his head and folded his hands in that same praying position. Hotstreak noted- though how he could done so when his mind was so overwhelmed was beyond him- that three out of the four ushers hadn't gotten past the first two rows of parishioners, attesting to the fact that they, too, had been arrested by Richie's song.

Richie swayed; reaching out without looking, he caught hold of the piano to steady himself. His tears were flowing freely now and he kept looking between Virgil and Hotstreak.

For his part, Hotstreak was afraid Virgil would turn around and stare, wanting to see who Richie was looking at, but it seemed Robert's son had more discretion than that. He reached back with one arm, as if just to flick something off his coat (though this looked strange enough, since almost everyone else seemed unable to move) and reached for Hotstreak's hand. Hotstreak touched Virgil's fingers with his own and smiled when Virgil squeezed his hand briefly before returning his hand to his lap.

Glancing up, Hotstreak was in time to see Richie stepping away form the piano. The spell was broken. Parishioners in almost every pew stood to applaud him. Richie first looked to Heaven, as if for strength, or maybe in gratitude, then bowed. He had to endure another minute of clapping before everyone consented to be seated so the offering could continue. The pianist played something soft, maybe it was "What Child is This?" but no one noticed. Probably even she didn't notice: her eyes followed Richie as he descended the two steps and moved down the aisle. Hands dropped envelopes into the velvet bags without really looking. All eyes, it seemed, were on Richie as he reclaimed his place between Virgil and Bernadette.

And when the velvet bag came to Hotstreak, he waved it aside and the usher didn't seem angry or annoyed as Hotstreak had thought; he, too, seemed lost in thought.

More words poured over Hotstreak as the service continued, words of thanksgiving to God, and then everyone rose to sing another hymn. "O Little Town of Bethlehem" this time, and Hotstreak found himself tempted to sing. He knew the melody and some of the words; he'd heard the hymn on a CD he'd stolen once. He hesitated through part of the first verse, but when Richie reached back, his hand resting on the back of the pew, and Hotstreak touched the warm fingers, his courage suddenly blazed and he opened his mouth. _I'm not the best singer, but I'll try. _"Yet in thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting light/The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight."

Hotstreak lost track of the next verse as Virgil's hand joined Richie's and suddenly Hotstreak was touching both of them, enjoying both of them, relishing their touch even as he relished their voices. Well, Virgil's voice, at least for the first half of the second verse. Richie had temporarily lost his ability to sing. But then Richie sang the last line of that verse, and Hotstreak glanced back down at the hymnal. Surprised, he realized that the verse he was hearing was the first. Shrugging, he sang the first verse all the way through this time, loving it because Richie and Virgil were signing, too. And loving it because something in the music gave him that opened-world feeling again. Used to accepting things- his reactions, the injustice of the world, his hunger for danger and excitement- Hotstreak drank in the feeling like win without bothering to wonder where it came from.

Then the hymn was over and the pastor called for "all Christian believers" to join him in Holy Communion. Hotstreak sat down heavily and groaned. He didn't want to let Virgil and Richie slip away, even for a few moments.

_Well, if you asked Jesus into your life, you'd kill two birds with one stone- a really bad expression, considering what you're about to do. Not only could you follow Richie and Virgil now, but you'd have, just possibly, a way to help your anger and keep you with them. If practical, scientific, clear-headed Richie and "I can take care of myself" Virgil believe in God, and Jesus, maybe there's actually something to this. And it's not as if you're signing away your life, right? You can always go back if you decide you don't like it._

Hotstreak couldn't think of an argument to that, if only because the opening-world feeling was blooming inside him like an unfurling flower. _Okay. I'll do it. To be near them. And if I don't like ti, I can go back, right?_

_Right._

The church was taking communion in rows, starting at the back of the church. Hotstreak swallowed when those in the row ahead of him had moved into the aisle. It was now or never. He put his coat on again, grateful that the lights hadn't been turned back to full, flipped up his collar, and prayed no one would see him. _This is Richie's and Virgil's night, God, as much as it's the birthday of Jesus. Can you please not let anyone else recognize me? I don't want to ruin this. _He frowned. Something was missing. _Oh, yeah. Amen. And I want to know you, God. I want to meet you and find out how you've made your way into Richie's and Virgil's lives. So here I am, giving myself to you. Just please help me do what's right by Richie and Virgil. I know you love them, so protect them from anything stupid I might do. Thank you. _Another pause. _Amen. Again._

He shuffled forward, following the woman in front of him and hoping he'd know what to do when he got to the altar. _Maybe I should have waited for Richie and Virgil to go first so I could watch them. _But that wouldn't have worked. Sighing, Hotstreak vowed to watch the woman in front of him. She'd show him what to do.

With a rustling of fake silk, she stopped before the altar and bowed. Then she went to the railing and knelt there. There wasn't space for Hotstreak. He glanced around nervously, unsure what to do. But then he saw the pastor serving communion to those and at the altar and realized that he'd be the first one to kneel when those at the altar cleared. _And Richie's father is going to be right next to me. Okay, God, now's the time for a miracle._

The altar cleared. Hotstreak went up the two steps and knelt, bowing his head to hide his face. He heard someone moving towards him and turned his face away a little too, just in case.

Then he felt the nudge at his side and glanced up, surprised. Richie was grinning at him. Gesturing with his head, Richie led Hotstreak's hands to the blonde's hands, which were resting on the railing before the altar, cupped as if to receive something. Hotstreak imitated him, then bowed his head again in case someone else noticed and recognized him. _How did Richie come to be the first in line? Well, I got my miracle. Thanks, God. Now, next one: just get me out of this church unidentified by anyone else._

The pastor came. He laid a wafer in Hotstreak's cupped hands. "The body of Christ, the bread of Heaven," he intoned, before moving on to Richie and repeating it. The wafer looked more like paper than anything else and Hotstreak was tempted to pick it up so he could examine it, or stick it in his pocket for later. Had the pastor called it bread? Maybe he'd given Hotstreak the little paper cap on a can of communion bread by mistake. Was there such a thing as cans of communion bread?

"Amen," Richie murmured, addressing the pastor. Then he nudged Hotstreak. "Eat it," he whispered.

Hotstreak did, chewing quickly, reflecting that the wafer tasted sort of like a rice cake without the satisfying crunch. _And without the little spread of peanut butter Aunt Sue always put on top of mine. _He glanced up as a man in a black robe covered by a while stole presented him the rim of a large chalice, saying, "The blood of Christ, the cup of salvation."

_Well, if I didn't know that was metaphorical, I'd be seriously grossed out. _Hotstreak sipped from the cup and hoped no one had drunk from it that had a cold. Peeking to his left as he bowed his head, he saw the man wipe the rim with a white cloth before offering the cup to Richie. _Okay, I just ate the body of Christ and drank his blood. Does that mean I'm saved yet? _But any sarcasm that might have accompanied this thought was swept away by that opening-world sensation and Hotstreak answered his own question. _Yeah, I'm saved now. I don't get how, or why God would give a shit about me, but I'm saved._

And he knew something else that should have scared him but didn't: _There's no going back now._

Richie stood and Hotstreak copied him, following Richie and the others back to the pews. Robert and Sharon were standing at the beginning of their pew, waiting for Richie to file past, as Virgil had already done. _They're not taking any chances with Richie, not even in a church. _Hotstreak he liked how the two Hawkins thought. He slipped past them as they went in after Richie and sat behind the blonde and Virgil once more.

The lights were dimmed a little more and candles were passed out. Hotstreak discreetly lit his so he wouldn't have to look at anyone to get a flame from their candle. The lights went out so only a sea of candles could be seen, along with the vague, faintly angelic figures of people. Hotstreak's mind jumped around like a squirrel on a hot griddle while the pastor gave the sermon, so he missed most of it. That didn't seem to matter. The feeling hadn't left him, and Hotstreak knew that even when it did, he wouldn't be able to forget. Still not really caring, knowing he'd find out more about it at some point, Hotstreak sat back and relaxed. And when the last two hymns came, he stood with everyone else and sang them. The first one passed out of his memory, but the second stuck, if only because everyone was asked to join hands and Richie and Virgil both reached back to take his hand.

Even then, no one noticed that they were reaching back. No one noticed Hotstreak. _Geez, when you do a miracle, you really do a miracle, don't you, God? Not that I'm complaining. _And, just in case Hotstreak was supposed to say it, even though he wasn't sure if it was the right time: _Amen._

The last hymn was "Amazing Grace."

When this last was over, everyone tried to talk at once, and many struggled to make their way to Richie. Hotstreak slouched down in the pew, bowing his head as if in prayer, and listened as Richie was complimented again and again. And he heard Richie say the same thing to many of those that told him what a beautiful voice he had: "All praise to God." _Maybe it makes him less embarrassed to have so many people fawning over him. _He couldn't quit believe that; Richie was just honest enough to admit when he did something right. _So if it's not that, then it must be that Richie really means what he's saying. Wonders never cease. Now I've got to know what it means to believe in God. _He'd met a few Christians in his lifetime, and none of them seemed as thoroughly dedicated as Richie. _Maybe Virgil's like this, too. I'll have to ask him._

Slowly, the crowds dissipated. Hotstreak left the sanctuary at a discreet distance, thinking he would catch up with Richie and Virgil when they got back home. But at the door, he spotted someone who looked vaguely familiar. Hotstreak couldn't place the face, though it reminded him of the horrid smell of hospitals. His sense of unease deepened. The man was standing a little away from the pastor, who was shaking hands with people as they left.

Richie and Virgil started past the unknown man, and he reached out, catching hold of Richie's arm. "Excuse me, son, are you Sean Foley's boy?"

Virgil moved at once to break the man's hold, but Richie pulled away, starting again for the front doors. And when Virgil looked back at the man, Richie turned and caught his hand, pulling him away as if Virgil was an errant child.

The man smiled after them and shook his head. "Youngsters," he muttered. Then he turned and made his way, upstream, back into the emptying sanctuary.

Hotstreak scowled at the man's back, and, after a moment, decided he needed to know who the man was. Maybe just a curious person, maybe some Richie's father worked with. _But maybe not._ And that hospital smell kept intruding on Hotstreak's brain. He slipped into the large room, trying to look as though he'd forgotten something. The man- he was a little plump, with black-grey hair and a grey, three-piece suit- was striding towards the altar as if it held all the answers. Maybe, for him, it did. Hotstreak moved between two pews so he could come towards the altar from the side. When he was closer, he saw the man take out a cell phone. Hotstreak dropped to a crouch and scuttled behind a dozen pots of poinsettias. It was a tight fit between the plants and the wall, but he managed it. Now he was near to the railing where he'd taken communion. Unable to see the man anymore, he could still hear him pushing buttons on his phone.

"Hello?... Brother Eustace, it's me. The boy's here at St. Paul's Episcopal. He sang a secularly-written carol that profaned the whole service. That n--- boy has done more damage than we thought…. Not until then?... Well, no, I don't think he's in any immediate danger. The n--- seems intent on keeping him away from everyone else. And Sean's son wasn't bruised or even too thin. Looks like the n— boy keeps a good eye on his whore… No, I'm safe here… Yes, I'll watch for him. They left together, him and his keeper. Maybe they're even living together. They arrived together… No, of course not. You know I'm better than that. They have no idea they're being watched…. Don't worry; I'm going to go home now and pray and make sure I read the Holy Scriptures until dawn. I'll be all right…Yes, I'll see you soon. I'll try to find out where the boy lives. Are you still going to…? I'm sorry. But I promise you, I'll all alone in here except for God, and He approves… Yes, of course. We can't be too careful…. Bye."

He closed the cell phone (Hotstreak heard the soft click) and started back up the aisle. Peeking around the leaves of the poinsettia at the end of the row, Hotstreak watched him go, strolling at a slower pace, smiling like a man who has just enjoyed a good service and was just offering up a last little prayer. It was all Hotstreak could do to hold still until the man was gone.

_He's going to hurt Richie and Virgil! Richie's father's coming back, probably with more KKK for backup, and they're going to… to what? Take Richie back to his father, at the least. And the way he talked about Virgil… They might want to hurt Virgil, too. _Hotstreak crept back down the side aisle, hoping the grey-suit man was gone. _I can't let him know I heard. They might try to strike sooner. And, at least for now, they may be waiting. I think that's what I heard. _He poked his head out into the foyer outside the sanctuary and saw that it was deserted except for the pastor, who was working at a small desk off to one side. _Maybe I can sneak out._ Hotstreak started across, careful not to make one sound. But when he was halfway, the pastor glanced back, as if he'd known Hotstreak was there all the time.

"Excuse me, young man, but would you mind if I asked you a question?" He stood and held out a hand to Hotstreak.

The lights were bright in the foyer. _Doesn't he recognize me? What's protecting me now? God, I didn't mean no one will ever recognize me again! _"Yeah?" Hotstreak shook the outstretched hand, unsure of what else to do.

"I've been told something remarkable happened to you tonight. Were you saved, by any chance?"

Hotstreak opened his mouth to deny any such thing, but then he remembered the opening-world sensation, and the compulsion to pray that had come over him, was, in fact, still influencing him. "Yeah, I'm saved. So what? It's not like I understand it or anything."

"Would you like to understand it?"

Before he could stop himself, Hotstreak said, "No. Richie and Virgil will teach me." _Shit! Why did I say that? What's he going to think now, especially if he recognizes me?_

The pastor's smile was uncomplicated. "I'm glad. Richie and Virgil are both wonderful young men." He took a small step back. "You're free to come here anytime. There's almost always someone here. I like to think we're one of the few churches that are open right when people need them, not just on Sundays." He held out his hand again and Hotstreak shook it. "I'm Pastor Darren Moore. Can I have your name?"

_Oh, here we go. _"Uh… no. You can't." Hotstreak started for the door again. "I hate my name," he added, glancing over his shoulder. Then he pushed the door open, leapt down the steps and jogged across the parking lot to where he'd hidden his motorcycle.

On the way back to Virgil's house, he only got lost once. But getting lost at all annoyed the hell out of Hotstreak and by the time he reached the Hawkins' it had started to rain as well. _Great. Just great. What else can go wrong? _He hid the motorcycle behind some bushes in a nearby park and walked to the house. Creeping around the side, he glanced up at the darkened windows. The light was still on in the living room, though, and so he crept to the window, amazed that the curtain hadn't been closed.

The scene inside made Hotstreak think of a stereotypical Christmas postcard, but even as he scoffed at the sentimentality of it all, he wanted to be part of it. _Oh, and there's one difference between most family-together Christmas cards and what I'm seeing: in the pictures, everyone is almost always white. Here we have a nice mix: three of one, four of the other. _He cupped his hands around the sides of his face and hoped that no one would notice him. He had crouched down low and was hovering near one corner, hoping he would be missed. Likewise, he hoped no one would drive by.

A decent-sized tree stood in one corner, covered over with lights and ornaments. Hotstreak studied it briefly, smiling at the obviously child-made ornaments. His eyes traveled to the angel on the top of the tree, then moved to the tree's base, where a small pile of presents were scattered about. But these didn't hold his attention for long. At once, he looked to the center of the room. Bernadette and John sat, squished together, on the couch. Virgil sat on the arm of the sofa, and Richie sat in front of the couch, leaning against Virgil's legs. His eyes were closed. Sharon and Robert were sitting in two chairs that had been drawn close to the couch. Adam sat on the arm of Sharon's chair, his fingers interlaced with hers. John was speaking, but Hotstreak couldn't hear what was said. But it must have been funny, because everyone started laughing. Virgil tottered on the arm of the sofa and Richie's eyes opened and sparkled with mirth as he turned to glance up at his foster father.

Suddenly, Richie froze. It was only for the barest instant, and no one except Virgil and Hotstreak noticed it. Then Richie was jumping up and gesturing towards the kitchen. Virgil followed him. The others turned to watch them, but didn't follow.

_Do the Hawkins have a kitchen door? _Hotstreak jogged around the side of the house to the back. No door. But then he saw Richie's pale, drawn face at the window. Richie pointed up and Hotstreak followed his finger just in time to see the lights go on in Virgil's room. The window opened and Hotstreak climbed the tree beside the house, not wanting to alert anyone by using his fire powers to fly up.

When Hotstreak was high enough to see into the bedroom, Virgil leaned out the window and whispered, "We'll meet you in the scrap metal yard on Ray Street when everybody goes to bed." And before Hotstreak could ask any questions, Virgil closed the window and ran out of the room, shutting off the light as he went.

Hotstreak clung to the tree for a moment, wondering if he should be angry with Virgil, or just accept the order for the moment. _If I'm still ticked when I see them, I'll let him know. _Hotstreak dropped out of the tree. _But I'm not going to wait in the scrap yard until they come. The KKK might come at any time, and even if I'm pretty sure that time isn't tonight, that grey-suited guy might get impatient and try something. I won't leave Richie and Virgil unprotected. _He crept back around to the front of the house and stationed himself by the front window. He glanced in every few minutes, but didn't stare. Richie had seen him; the others might at any time.

oOo

John's second Christmas joke was better than his first, and Richie laughed freely as he leaned against Virgil's legs. But the laughter died in his throat as he remembered the man who had seized his arm as he tried to leave the church.

They had only just returned from the church, but Richie couldn't help feeling that someone was watching them. _Watching me. Watching V. I don't' know about the others. But… _He remembered the man who had caught his arm. He'd known him, of course; how could he not? The grey-haired man was Angela's father, his father's friend from the meeting hall. _I saw him every week when we went to the meetings, but I remember him from the night my father caught me writing notes about Virg when I was supposed to be piously paying attention to the sermon. He knew perfectly well who I was. The question is, what is he going to do about it?_

_Richie?_

_What's up, BP?_

_I could not help but notice your anxiety. Do you also sense the Bang Baby nearby?_

Richie stared up at the ceiling to keep from looking around nervously. _Which Bag Baby?_

_Hotstreak._

_Oh. _Richie relaxed. _Well, Virg and I will have to talk to him._

_But what were you worried about?_

Richie sent his robot the memory of the meeting in the church. Then he sent Virgil a silent call and the two of them stood. After telling the others that they would make hot chocolate, the two of them disappeared into the kitchen.

The moment they were out of sight, Virgil took Richie in his arms and asked, _What is it, Rich?_

_Hotstreak's here. Can we talk to him?_

_Now?_

_No. After everyone else goes to bed._

_Okay. _Virgil tightened his arms around Richie. _Do you want me to go outside and find him?_

_I think you should talk to him from your room. He saw us, I think; he'll come back here. I'll send him up to you. _Richie shivered and Virgil hugged him even more fiercely.

_Richie, what-?_

_The man that grabbed my arm in church is a friend of my father's. _Richie closed his eyes for a moment and leaned against Virgil. Then he pulled away. _I need you to hold me, V, but right now I need you to get up there so I can send him up to you._

Virgil nodded. _All right. I'll be right back. _He kissed the corner of Richie's mouth, then dashed for the stairs.

Richie leaned against the counter for a moment, overwhelmed. _Please, I don't want him to come back and hurt everyone I love. I don't want him to ruin everything. Please, God, don't let him ruin everything I have here. _Gradually, he became conscious of his trembling and he forced himself to stand completely still. _I can handle this. I can live with this, even if he comes back. _He snorted. _I'm more scared of him than I am of Brainiac. _Shaking his head, he went to heat the milk for hot chocolate.

_Richie, I am here for you. I won't let him hurt you. I'll find a way to protect you. I promise I will._

Richie again stood still, basking in Backpack's love. His heartbeat slowed and he smiled slightly. _Thank you, BP. I love you, too. _So bolstered, his courage and determination reasserted themselves and Richie went to collect mugs from the cupboard and find the marshmallows.

The next hour or so would have been intensely joyful if Richie could have forgotten about his father. He was looking forward to seeing Hotstreak, and so the after-bed meeting would have only made him happier, more excited. But the grey-suited man kept popping into his mind and Richie couldn't shake the thought that his father wasn't far behind. It made no logical sense, especially when Richie remembered that the grey-suited man might have just been in the church to worship like everyone else. _The KKK has gone underground, remember? Their meeting hall is even dark. That's probably why he was there; he wanted to find a place to worship on Christmas. He didn't have to be looking for me. He could have just seen me and wanted to say hello… No. I'm trying to lie to myself. He was there for me; I know it. And even if my father isn't back in Dakota, that doesn't mean he won't be soon, especially since he'll know soon that I was in church. _Richie considered the offertory hymn he'd sang and had to force himself not to shiver. _I love that song; I always have. But Dad has always said it's a secular nightmare, designed to sway the unwary from the true hymns of God. Please, Lord, don't let my father hear about the hymn. Please don't let him hear._

Near the end of the night, when everyone was starting to yawn- everyone except Virgil and Richie- Robert suggested they all open one present. Richie roused himself out of his dark thoughts, trying to act just as cheerful and happy as he had been during the service. He offered to pass out one gift to each person just to give himself something to do. Virgil helped him and soon everyone was sitting with a present on his or her lap.

"Who's first?" Robert asked, glancing around.

"Go ahead, Mr. H," Richie said. "V and I are old enough to wait a minute."

"Speak for yourself," Virgil said, and everyone, even Richie, laughed.

Robert ripped off the paper and gazed at the cardboard box. "Is this something I can store more files in?" he asked Virgil since his son's name had been on the card.

"Just open it, Pops."

Robert took the top off the box and smiled. "Virgil…"

"What? You're the one who said you need to lose weight."

Robert pulled out the workout T-shirt. It said "Father Figure" and had the outline of a father who was fatter than Robert had ever dreamed of being. Shaking his head, Robert put the shirt back.

"Hey!" Virgil cried. "There's more in the box!"

Heaving a melodramatic sigh, Robert balled up the exercise shirt and lobbed it at his son. Then he froze, his eyes widening. Slowly, he took the framed picture out of the box. "Where did you find this? And how did you clean it up? I thought it was ruined!" He turned the picture around so everyone could see it. In the background, waves were frozen for all time in their rush towards a long expanse of beach. Sharon and her mother were building a sand castle on the shore while Virgil and Richie splashed in the surf.

"I took this picture only a week before the Dakota Riots," Robert murmured. "We went out to the beach to celebrate Richie's birthday and to give Virgil a chance to run off some energy. We stayed all day." His hands shaking, he set the picture back in the box. "I've never seen too little boys who slept so soundly. They slept all the way home and all night." He stood and walked to Virgil, who grinned at him. "Virgil…" He hugged his son close, closing his eyes. "Thank you." Then, when he could speak a little more, he asked, "How did you clean this picture up? Somebody spilled raspberry jam on it the day we got it back from the photo shop. And I don't think it was this large, either."

Virgil nodded towards Richie. "What can I say? I have excellent resources."

Richie blushed pink. "Okay, Sharon, your turn," he muttered without looking up. For the first time since leaving the church, the shadow of fear left his heart. Forgetting his embarrassment, he watched his sister intently.

She unwrapped the small box and gazed at the beautiful picture inside. "Oh, Richie…" Her eyes shining, she lifted out the picture, holding it so first Adam, then everyone else, could see. Her own image smiled back at her, joined together with Adam. The picture had been altered so both of them were dressed in wedding clothes. Sharon laughed. "Is this supposed to be a subtle hint?" She tried to glare at Richie. "Do you want me out of the house this badly?"

Richie grinned at her. "No, it's just a picture. Make of it what you will."

Sharon threw a pillow at him. Richie caught it, but only just; his reflexes weren't perfect, as they'd been since he'd trained with Virgil. Shaking off the realization, refusing to reflect on its implications when he was so happy, Richie pitched the pillow back. _At least my aim is still dead-on, _he thought as Sharon squawked, tipping sideways to bump into Adam. Adam gasped and fell off the chair arm, catching himself before he could take an ungraceful swan dive.

"Next?" Sharon asked, trying to distract everyone from what she'd made Adam do.

Richie glanced at his foster parents and John said, "All right." He unwrapped two dress shirts he'd been desperate for and hugged his wife. Bernadette then opened a pretty blue-and-white pin Sharon had seen on campus.

Next, Adam unwrapped six bundles of black socks held together with an orange extension cord. When he asked Virgil what he was trying to say, Virgil answered, "I don't want my sister to marry someone who doesn't change his socks often. And the cord's the right length for your synthesizer." He grinned somewhat sheepishly. "Rich and I melted it when we were trying to make a little music." That wasn't exactly what had happened, but Virgil didn't think now was the time to say he'd used the cord to tie up Carmen Dillo the week before last.

Adam sighed. "If it wasn't Christmas, you'd be in trouble."

Virgil grinned. "Only if you can catch me, Boucny Boy."

"Enough," Robert said tolerantly. "Virgil, Richie, that just leaves you two."

Virgil considered his present for a moment. "Okay, I'll go first. I can't wait another second." He tore into the paper, shredding it and tossing little balls of it at Richie, at Sharon, at his Pops. When the box was free of all paper, Virgil opened it and grinned at the book the found there. Lifting it out, he opened it and found one of his baby pictures. On the flyleaf was this message: _SS and G_ S_crapbook, V. Don't turn the page until you're alone._

Virgil set the book aside and hugged Richie from behind. "I love you, Rich."

"I love you, too, V." Richie tore the paper off his gift, now anxious to get to Hotstreak and to talk to both he and Virgil about the man in the church. His happiness had ebbed a little, but he fought to keep from losing it completely. He opened the box and laughed, unable to retain his worried mood for that moment. Folded into the box were several sweaters in varying shades of blue and green. Glancing up at his foster parents, he asked, "So you're saying I wear hooded sweatshirts too often?"

Bernadette ruffled his hair. "Something like that."

Shortly after this, everyone started getting ready for bed. Bernadette and John were sharing Richie's room and Richie was sleeping with Virgil. After the confession that they were Static and Gear, Virgil and Richie had cracked and told their parents (all three) that they'd made love. The reactions hadn't been quite as bad as Richie and Virgil had expected, but both of them had felt very guilty, especially when Robert reminded them that they ad both promised not to have sex until they were married. But, two days later, Robert was calming down about it, and he was slowly starting to trust them alone together again. Bernadette and John (who had both secretly thought Richie had Virgil had made love months ago, when Virgil was spending the night that first time) were more relieved than anything that Virgil and Richie had gone so long.

Alone in Virgil's room with the door shut, Virgil and Richie changed out of their church clothes and slipped out Virgil's window to meet Hotstreak. Backpack was going to meet them at the scrap metal yard just in case, and Richie had hidden a few Zap Caps in the front pocket of his hoodie. The three of them weren't exactly worried about Hotstreak turning on them (okay, fine: Virgil and Backpack were a little worried) but other Bang Babies might have followed Hotstreak that the red headed teen didn't know about.

The walk only took five minutes, but that was more than long enough for Richie to start feeling nervous again. He walked with Virgil's arm around his shoulders and one of his hands plunged into the pocket where he carried the Zap Caps. Thanks to Backpack's surveillance, they knew Hotstreak was following them, but neither let on, preferring to wait until they reached the scrap yard. They walked at a brisk pace, their senses alert for danger.

At the entrance to the scrap yard, they paused in the shadows, listening one final time. They hadn't heard Hotstreak as they approached, and they couldn't be positive they hadn't been followed by more than the redhead. _But we can't stand out here all right or someone will definitely spot us, _Virgil thought, and Richie nodded.

Hotstreak must have circled around them because he stood in the moonlight, waiting for them, his hands on his hips and his eyes unreadable. The three teens gazed at each other, looking like a planned-out stage tableau. Richie reached out a little, just as he had in the church, then everything was still again.

"What do you want me to say?" Hotstreak asked, taking two steps towards them. He was holding his hands away from his body, as if he were a soldier trying to show that he had come in peace. Hotstreak needed no weapons, so the gesture was somewhat useless. But it had been made, and that was enough for Richie.

"I'm not sure," the blonde answered, stepping away from Virgil. He didn't move towards Hotstreak, but gazed at him intently. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to say. I can't help you." He tried to smile, and the boyish look of nervousness made him look three or four years younger than he was. "I'm hoping you got the letter I slipped into your pants when you and Aquamaria were at the mall a few weeks ago. Why haven't we seen you?"

"I didn't want Static and Gear to have to fight me."

Virgil shook his head. "Because we'd kick your ass?"

Richie caught Virgil's hand in his. "I'm glad we didn't have to fight you." He gestured towards Virgil. "And so is he; he just shows it differently."

Virgil was rubbing the back of his head, but he stopped abruptly. "Yeah, I guess I do." He was shaking his head again. "This is stupid. Why are we all so nervous? It's not like we don't know each other." Then he fell silent and stared at his shoes, probably regretting his words. "I feel like we're all acting in some play and we've forgotten our lines or something."

"That's about it," Richie and Hotstreak said. Then they looked at each and laughed. He tension eased somewhat.

Hotstreak moved closer so that he was within touching distance, even though he didn't touch either of them. "After you left the church, the guy who grabbed your arm went back into the sanctuary and called somebody named Brother Eustace."

Richie moaned softly and Virgil hugged him close with one arm.

"I guess you know him," Hotstreak said. "Who is he?"

Richie bit his lip and tried to stop his hands from trembling. He didn't want to appear as frightened as he felt. "He's the pastor of the church I used to go to. He conducted the services and the meetings of the KKK. He hasn't been seen in Dakota since my dad disappeared." He swallowed and stood straight, meeting Hotstreak's eyes. "What are they planning?"

"I'm not sure; the guy in the grey suit started to say something about doing something-" Hotstreak shrugged, realizing how uninformative that was- "but he didn't finish. It sounded like Brother Eustace didn't want him to finish, just in case he was overheard. There's a guy that could give Ebon lessons on over-cautious behavior."

Richie reached out, and Hotstreak took his hand. "Please tell me everything you heard," the blonde said, his jaw set and his eyes glittering. His expression had changed from terror to a fierce determination that Hotstreak knew he didn't want to cross. Something in that look reminded Hotstreak of the day Richie had yelled at Slipstream, _And may you have joy of it, you blarney bastard. _The look wasn't quite the same as the voice; the look was softened by love and trust, but it was close for all that. The steel was still there.

Hotstreak tried to remember the conversation from beginning to end because it was so obviously important to Richie. "He said he saw you at St. Paul's Episcopal Church and that Virgil was with you. He said Virgil did something to you, but that you weren't in any immediate danger." He shrugged. "Maybe he meant Virgil wasn't going to kill you tonight."

"That's it exactly," Richie answered. "Go on."

"He said you weren't hurt, that- Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Yes," Richie and Virgil said together, and now Virgil moved so that even though he still had his arm around Richie's shoulders, he was almost brushing Hotstreak's arms with his own.

That show of trust made Hotstreak's heart soar. "He said," _and I can't believe I remember this word for word, _" 'Looks like the n— boy keeps a good eye on his whore' Then I think he promised to keep watching both of you. He thought maybe you might live together since you arrived together."

Richie shuddered between Hotstreak and Virgil and both of them tightened their grip on him, strengthening him. Richie colored slightly, though it couldn't be seen well under the moonlight, and smiled. "I'm okay. Keep going, please."

"He thinks you two don't know you're being watched. Then he said something about going home to pray and read the Bible."

Richie laughed. "Just being near us makes him unholy, huh?" He chuckled more softly. "Man, I'm so glad I'm away from all that."

Hotstreak could hear the relief in Richie's voice and realized Richie sounded a lot like him when he'd been glad to be out of the hospital. He squeezed Richie's fingers and continued, "He said he'd see them soon. I don't know what that means, but he said he'd tried to figure out where you live, Richie. That was when he started to ask if they were going to do something, but he didn't finish. He said something about being careful and that he was alone in the sanctuary except for God, who agreed with their plans. Then he hung up." Glancing down at Richie's hand in his, Hotstreak remembered Richie singing, and he added, "He told about your song at the beginning of the conversation."

Richie tensed. "What did he say?"

"I can't remember exactly… Something about profaning the service or something."

Richie groaned. "Great. Did he tell Brother Eustace the title?"

"No."

"Okay… Okay, at least there's that. My dad's always hated "I Wonder as I Wander," and the more I loved it, the angrier he got. He forbade me from ever signing it."

"Well, I'm glad you sang it, Rich," Virgil said.

"It was perfect," Hotstreak added. "Your voice… I didn't know you could sing like that."

Richie blushed. "All praise to God," he said.

Hotstreak was drawn forward by those words, and, freeing his hand from Richie's, he touched the side of Richie's face. "I want you and Virgil to teach me about God. I think I gave my life to him tonight, even if I don't know if I did it for the right reasons." He shrugged, refusing to be embarrassed. "I've met so many Christians that don't take what they believe seriously, or at least not seriously enough to do more than preach about it while they live just like everybody else. But you're different. You really practice what you believe. And you do it without shouting that you're doing it, or hiding from everybody, or anything. The only way I know you're a Christian is by the things you don't say, like how you don't swear or you-" He blundered into silence when he felt the soft kiss on cheek. And turning his head, he met Virgil's gaze.

The younger teen smiled. "You talk too much, Hothead. Sort of like me." He kissed Hotstreak again, this time on the mouth, then drew back and turned Hotstreak's head with his fingertips.

Hotstreak wanted to pursue the kiss, but then Richie was leaning forward and Hotstreak gave himself over to kissing the beautiful blonde before him. Wrapping one arm around Virgil and the other around Richie, he kissed each of them, back and forth, back and forth, like that, until Richie laughed and wriggled out of his grasp.

Stepping back, Richie gazed at the two of them. "I want to see you together like that," he said, gesturing for them to move closer to one another as if he was taking a picture. When Hotstreak and Virgil moved closer, Richie grinned and then stepped close enough to take their hands in his. "So is this all right with both of you?" he asked, looking from one to the other. "Can we be together?" Maybe he was blushing again; it was hard to tell. His hands holding theirs were steady enough and his voice gave nothing away.

"Yes," said Hotstreak. "I can't promise I won't lose my temper- not on you, on others- but I'm going to try." He glanced between them, including both of them in his words. "I love you."

Richie looked to Virgil and raised an eyebrow.

"Okay," Virgil said. "if you can put up with Hotstreak and I teasing each other and both of us wanting to protect you, then a threesome's just fine with me."

Richie grinned. "Deal." He embraced them both and relished the feeling of being surrounded by their arms. But he couldn't enjoy it long; if Hotstreak was going to join with them, he had to know everything. He pulled back enough so he could meet Hotstreak's gaze. "Francis-" He caught the man's wince. "Do you want me to call you Hotstreak?"

"Not really, but I don't really have any other name. Just please not Francis." He paused. "Or F-Stop. My Aunt Sue hates that nickname." He grinned and kissed Richie's cheek. "I want you both to meet her. She makes the best pumpkin soup."

"I bet it's not better than Richie's," Virgil said. "Just thinking about his makes my sister drool. Well, more than usual." He glanced at Richie to see if he was embarrassed, but Richie was deep in thought. "Rich? Earth to Richie. Where'd you go?" He glanced at Hotstreak and, hoping to pull Richie out of the other world he'd gone into, he said, "You'll have to get used to this. Richie's big brain gets in the way of his interactions with normal metahumans like us." Richie still didn't react. "Richie?" Virgil shook Richie gently. 'Please tell me you're not talking to Gear again." He saw Hotstreak raise an eyebrow, but couldn't spare the minutes it would take to explain things. "Richie!"

The blonde blinked and came back to reality. "No, not Gear. He's still off trying to make nice with Brainiac." He saw the confusion on Hotstreak's face, but ignored it for the moment. "I was trying to find a better name for you," he said to the former bad boy. "I was thinking of a few. See what you think." He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked first at Virgil, then at Hotstreak. "Aidan's the first. It's Irish and means fiery." He grinned. "Actually, most of the ones that popped into my head mean 'fiery' or 'fire,' so I'll just tell you when they don't. Egan is also Irish. Kehydi is Old English and means golden-haired. Peter is Hebrew and means 'a rock' as in strong like a rock." Richie chuckled. "Adam means 'red earth,' and I don't know why it suits you, but it does." He grinned. "The next seven all mean fire: Nuriel, Orion, Adar, Kai, Fiyero, Josiah and Nuri. Let me know if there's some other meaning you- What?"

Hotstreak was laughing hysterically, his hands on his knees, his head down. Virgil was supporting him, but he, too, was laughing, his whole body shaking.

"What!" Richie demanded. "What's so funny?" he searched the last seven names he'd listed for any connections to anything sexual or any bodily function, thinking that was what had set off the other two men. They continued to laugh and Richie put his hands on his hips. "What?"

"How do you-?" Hotstreak gasped. "How do you do that? How do you know all those? Who uploaded into your head?"

Virgil snickered. "That's just Richie; he'll go on all night if you want him to."

Richie scowled at both of them, then his face smoothed out. "You know," he said, going for the Zap Caps in his pocket, "I brought enough water Caps fore both of you."

Virgil and Hotstreak both jumped back.

"Richie, please," Hotstreak began, remembering how Richie had gotten him good when all Hotstreak had tried to do was protect him.

"Rich, don't you dare!" Virgil cried.

Richie's grin looked dangerous. "Maybe I will and maybe I won't." Then he took his hand away from the pocket and said, "Are you done laughing at me?"

Both metahumans nodded contritely.

"Okay, then." Richie threw himself back into their arms and kissed each of them. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked Hotstreak.

"Yeah. I think I need to think about it. But I like that a lot of them have to do with fire." He frowned. "I liked Kydidi, I think."

"Kehydi," Richie answered, grinning. "I'll see if Kydidi is a name, though. Any others?"

"Fiyero sounded good. But Nuri? Orion? I don't want to sound like either a retard or a nerd."

"Fair enough." Richie's face became suddenly serious. "Virg and I have a lot to tell you, just so you know what's coming. First, and maybe most important, Brainiac's back."

Forty-five minute later, Hotstreak stood with the two superheroes at the entrance to the scrap yard. He had earned himself a place in Richie's plan, even though he liked the idea of Richie going into danger just as much as Virgil did. He'd met Backpack and been rightly surprised when he heard an echo of Richie's voice coming out of the little robot. It had taken him a while to understand the separation between Richie and Gear, probably longer than it would have if Gear had been in evidence to introduce himself. But for just being exposed to a whole new, confusing world, Hotstreak handled himself remarkably well. As he though to himself in the middle of the explanation about Gear: _Well, if I just remember that I love them more than I love anything else in the world, including myself, I'll be all set. I can handle anything, even something this strange._

"We should all get some sleep," Virgil said as they stood at the entrance, hidden in the shadows. "Or at least we should try before we're supposed to be all excited about presents."

Richie gasped. "I forgot!" He groaned and put his head in his hands for a moment. Before Virgil or Hotstreak could ask him what was wrong, Richie looked up at them, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Well, now I'll have to make sure I see you in the morning," he said to Hotstreak. "I left your present at home."

Hotstreak shook his head. "I already have my present."

Richie and Virgil smiled, but Richie said, "I'll find a way to meet you tomorrow." He shivered as the wind gusted. "We could meet in the gas station."

"Where?" Hotstreak asked.

Virgil bowed. "The Gas Station of Solitude, sir. Haven't you heard of it?"

Snickering, Hotstreak drew both Richie and Virgil into his arms. "You'll show me tomorrow," he said. Then he kissed then and received kisses in return. He didn't want to let them go; it seemed as if they'd just gotten there. But they needed to sleep, and he knew it. _Besides, they might be missed. _"Go home," he said.

Richie hesitated. "Do you… do you have somewhere to sleep?"

Hotstreak smiled. "I'll be all right, Richie. Don't worry about me. I've gotten along all this time, right?"

Richie reached up and touched Hotstreak's face with cold fingers. "Yes, you have. But I want to take you home and make sure you eat and sleep." He sighed. "And I know that can't happen yet, but it doesn't mean I don't want to take care of you."

Hotstreak kissed Richie's fingers. "It's only fair, since I want to take care of the both of you." He kissed Richie's mouth gently. "Go home and sleep. I'll be all right until morning." He turned to Virgil and they both just stared at each other for a moment.

"Well, this isn't going to work," Virgil laughed. "We're both so used to being the strong one. How are we going to say good night?'

Richie shook his head at both of them. "Try kissing. It's sometimes better than words." His smile was wry. "Especially for you two."

Fully aware that they were following orders, but not caring, Virgil and Hotstreak embraced and kissed each other, melting against each other. For a long moment, time stopped and there was just the two of them, clasped body to body, neither giving in, but each showing his strength to the other.

Richie gazed at them and blinked away a few tears. Then he chided himself for being too sentimental and turned to Backpack, who had been silent for most of the exchange. Richie knelt and Backpack climbed off his back so they could look at each other. _You're all right with this, BP?_

_Learning to trust him will be like learning to trust Virgil, but it can be done. I can see how happy he makes you. I would not stand in the way of your happiness for anything, Richie, unless I thought what you were doing was dangerous._

_But you _do_ think this is dangerous._

_He's… different now, Maybe trusting him will be easier than I thought._

Richie grinned and hugged Backpack tightly. _I love you. Thank you for trying this with me. _He stood, the robot still in his arms. _Will you go back to the gas station or come with us back to the house?_

_I wish to see if I can locate your father or Brainiac. I will stay at the station for a little while. I will see you tomorrow. _Backpack smiled in Richie's mind. _Or rather, later today. It is three A.M._

Richie set Backpack down and smiled at Hotstreak and Virgil, who were still holding each other, but watching him. "What? Can't I talk to my best friend? Don't you two get jealous now. That's something we definitely don't need." He laughed as Virgil and Hotstreak hugged him, both of them kissing him and trying to tickle him. "I'll sic Backpack on you!" he gasped out between giggles. "I swear I will! Or I'll get at the Zap Caps and-"

Hotstreak stopped Richie's threats with his mouth and Richie stilled, luxuriating the feeling of cool lips and a hot tongue. His knees unbuckled and he felt himself supported by Virgil from behind.

"Now go home," Hotstreak said. "I'll see you both later. Get some sleep. And don't worry about your father any more tonight, Richie. Between Virgil, Backpack and me, you're covered." He held up a hand when Richie tired to speak. "Go. How are you supposed to get up at six like normal hyper teenagers if you don't get any sleep?"

Richie nodded, hugged Hotstreak again, then turned with Virgil and started home. He glanced back once, but Hotstreak was gone. Knowing that the redhead was off to find someplace to sleep, hopefully someplace warm, made it easier for Richie to walk away. _And Hotstreak probably knew that; that's why he left._


	21. BP Log, V Diary, Power Outage

**A/N:** Okay I'm going to quit warning that something might be the last chapter until it's actually written. You'd think I'd be able to tell how long this is going to be- no such luck! Anyway, enjoy!

**Warning 1:** You might need a tissue.

**Warning 2:** There is a warning maybe I should give, but I'm afraid it'll ruin the surprise. Feel free to flame me about lack of warnings this time.

**Episode:** Power Outage, #52. (Yeah, it was such a good title for that episode that I had to name the chapter after it.)

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (7)

Backpack's Personal Log (9)

Chapter Four: Power Outage

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins/Static Shock

Dear Diary,January 7, 2004

Richie's at the gas station trying to figure out a way to counteract what Dr. Todd has done, but neither of us has any real hope. Richie's been my best friend for years and years; I don't care if he isn't a genius anymore. But he cares, because he wants to fight crime. He doesn't have to worry about losing my friendship or my love, but he's devastated by losing his powers- powers he didn't even think were any good at first.

And that paragraph made no sense, mostly because I'm trying to woodshed an answer that will make Richie feel better about losing not only his powers, but his connection to Backpack and the mental connection we share.

Let's start over before I get going again. Yesterday, Mr. Boyle returned the math tests we took before Christmas break. I got an A, partially because I knew most of the stuff on my own, and partially because Richie helped me study. But Richie… He got a B-. _Richie._ I couldn't believe it. It's like something out of the Twilight Zone. Before Richie started showing the signs of being exposed to the Bang Baby gas, a B- is the sort of grade he would get in math if he didn't study.

Anyway, after math, the school day was over, which was good because Richie was pretty upset and trying to hide it. He was probably scared, more than anything. But I don't want it to sound like Richie was just afraid of going back to being normal. He was afraid of losing Backpack, afraid of fighting Brainiac… And he was afraid of confronting his father if he didn't have the genius capacity to avoid him. Meeting his father again is what keeps Richie awake some nights and I know it's what made him truly afraid yesterday.

There wasn't time to talk about it, though, because first Daisy and Frieda approached us, demanding why we didn't help with a recycling campaign we both completely forgot about. Then we were allowed to escape them because Kangor and Ferret were raiding a store for cash and (in Ferret's case) food. I engaged Kangor and Richie went after Ferret. I heard an echo of the brief verbal exchange between Richie and Ferret before Richie was out of range- which shouldn't happen with mental connections, but does now.

Ferret: "Stay back!"

Richie (probably using humor to cloak his earlier fear): "What are you gonna do? Sniff me?"

Ferret: "Naw, smart guy. I'm gonna run!"

Richie: "Ri-ight... What was I thinking?"

Understand this: I couldn't feel any of the emotions behind Richie's words; it was like I was hearing him speak them, even though I was too preoccupied with Kangor to pay attention to Richie with my ears. So I don't know what he did with his fear to hide it; I just know he hid it.

Well, I went back to fighting Kangor. He was giving me more trouble than he should have. I know now that I was losing my powers, but I didn't acknowledge it then. Kangor kicked me out of the air. But just as he was going to try and step on me, he turned a nice, poisonous-looking rosy-pink and fell over. His feet started shrinking. I called Richie to come see what was happening, hoping against hope that his earlier mental lapses were over and he could explain what was happening. But Richie was just as baffled as I was.

We took Kangor to the hospital and called in Dr. Todd, the same guy who worked on Aquamaria. Looks like he finally got the cure right. All it took was Richie telling him one thing about the antidote that was used on Aquamaria. I guess that's some sort of sick justice that Richie was just trying to help one Bang Baby who wanted to be human, and ends up giving the vital clue to the destruction of all Bang Babies. I don't blame Richie; it's not his fault Dr. Todd took the new information and used it to blanket the city in anti-Bang Baby gas.

And I'm so frustrated and angry and worried that I can't stay on topic. Kangor became human again, and Dr. Todd told us that he'd been cured. I saw the mistrust in Richie's eyes. Even before the effects of the Big Bang gas, Richie was no slouch in deductive reasoning. He understood before I did what Dr. Todd had done. Dr. Todd said the same thing would happen to all Bang Babies, even to Gear and me. Then he laid a comforting hand on Richie's arm. Richie stiffened and there must have been enough anger in his face to make Dr. Todd think better of the gesture because he pulled away quickly while still trying to hide his understanding of the anger he saw.

All that happened yesterday, as I've said, and now it's Saturday morning and Richie's been at the gas station all night, trying to save, at the very least, his connection to Backpack. You'd think they'd keep at least their verbal connection, like Richie and I do, right? Wrong. That was the first thing to break down, though I don't understand why, and probably Richie doesn't, either.

The only words Richie spared after we left the hospital yesterday were these: "Wherever Hotstreak is, I hope he's okay." Then he flew off- flying low, just in case his powers gave out- and I went home.

It's almost nine this morning. I've been up since four, fighting the urge to call Richie. I don't want to distract him if he's found something, but, even more, I don't' want to badger him, remind him that we need his intelligence when he's already suffering self-recriminations. But I can't sit still much longer. And I've done everything I can: I called the Justice League to ask advice, I talked to my Pops (that just helped to calm me down), and I called Bernadette and John to brief them on the situation so Richie wouldn't have to. I can't find anything else to do and I can't write much more. I need to try and talk to Richie, maybe start helping him accept things the way they are. Ha. Some joke, Virgil. I'm upset enough, and I'm not even losing my best friend because I can't connect to him anymore. I wonder how Backpack's handling all this?

Hey, maybe I'm actually starting to like Backpack. Yeah, I am, now that it's too late. Great timing.

Backpack's Personal Log

Personal Log

Date: 1-07-04

Subject: I'm losing Richie and I can't reach out to him and we can't connect! Richie, I wish I could help! I can see you falling into despair and I wish I could just tell you everything's going to be all right.

I must calm down. If this is going to be my final log- because I can feel myself shutting down from the inside- I must make sense. I must offer Richie comforting words. Hopefully he will find a way to download my final thoughts so that he can know I loved him right up to the end.

Chronological order will do to help order my thoughts. I will start back at Christmastime, if only to remember good things. Richie delivered Hotstreak's presents. The first was completely practical: stuffed into a medium-sized box were two pairs of pants (just Hotstreak's size because I had measured him a few weeks ago during a battle) two shirts, underwear, socks, a winter coat, toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, shaving cream and half the money Richie received as birthday money from Bernadette and John. Richie also supplied Hotstreak with a walkie-talkie on the same frequency as the Shock Voxes, though it looks nothing like those. Hotstreak was a little embarrassed, but he accepted it with good grace and it was obvious he really needed some of the things Richie had given him.

The second gift was one that Richie kept secret even from me. He had written Hotstreak a poem. Richie does not enjoy creative writing as a rule, and so, by this gift, if in no other way, I know he is serious. He gave Virgil a poem, too; it was in the Static Shock and Gear Scrapbook.

On to my gift. Richie made a card for me that is both physical and electronic. On the outside of the card Richie had drawn the two of us. I was sitting on his lap and his hand rested on me. Richie is not the most talented artist in Dakota (though he could be, if he read some of the art books- his brain would absorb it all) but I could tell what the picture was supposed to be, and it meant more to me that he hadn't used his super-intelligence, but his natural abilities to make the card. I'm not sure why that should make such a difference, but it did. Inside the card, Richie wrote: "Merry Christmas, Backpack. I look forward to a lifetime of learning, arguing, laughing and loving with you." And, on the back of the card, Richie placed a picture of the two of us. I remember when that picture was taken. Richie had only been in costume once before- to save Virgil from Ebon. He was a new superhero in Dakota, so a reporter took a picture of him. It's a good shot of both of us, and one of my favorites, because Richie looks startled at having his picture taken.

The last two weeks have been filled with tracking Brainiac, seeing Hotstreak (who still has not chosen a new name) and trying to figure out what Richie's father and the other members of his parish are planning. Up until this most recent development with the cure, I have watched the Internet, all police bands, and tapped the phone line at Richie's old house, hoping Sean will rear his ugly head before he appears to try and ruin Richie's peace. Now, of course, I can hardly hear Richie.

The gas Dr. Todd sent throughout Dakota was so well hidden in pollution that I never detected it. Perhaps if Gear had been here, he would have done so. He has been gone, "making nice" with Brainiac since December 24th. If Richie and I have lost our connection, does that mean Gear has disappeared? Or was he just separate enough from Richie to survive? Or maybe, since he severed his ties with Richie, he was safe with Brainiac. I know not. Nor do I care right now, except that Gear might see Richie's loss of power and do something drastic.

Richie has been up all night, making no progress. Occasionally, I will hear an echo of his thoughts. Sometimes these things are directed at me, sometimes they are calls to Virgil, and sometimes they are just cries for help as he struggles to rebuild everything we've lost. Sendings from him that must be put down, so that he knows I heard them: BP, I love you. Don't forget I love you… We'll get through this… I love you so much; we won't lose each other. I won't let it (happen- I assume this is the word he meant to end with, but I lost the connection again)… love… BP… Trust me… Need you…

Nothing came through the link for almost an hour, then I heard what might well be the final words we share: Backpack, don't go! Please!

Richie, know this: I heard you and I don't want to leave you. I love you. Do not blame yourself for what has happened.

**Warning: system shut-down in two hours.**

I am losing you, Richie. I must conserve my strength and shut off this-

**Warning: system shut down in one hour, fifty-nine minutes.**

-program. It will be saved for ou woetjioashdg;jkao;wihetop

What was that? I can… canot cannot think love richie love alwayzzzzzzjhkhkhiuy

Chapter Four: Power Outage

He was wearing his helmet- they were both in full costume, just for the comfort, mostly- so hitting his head against the desk wasn't going to do any damage. Still…

Virgil caught Richie's shoulders. "Chill, okay?" _Yeah, I know it sounds bad, and I hate myself for saying that, but I don't know what else to say._

Richie's hands were shaking. "There's no way to stop it. I'm not going to be a genius anymore and your powers-"

Virgil read the unspoken message in Richie's eyes as his boyfriend reached up to touch one of Backpack's arms. The robot was still clinging to him, but there was no way to know how long that would last. "I know," Virgil said, deciding he would try to help Richie deal with Backpack's "death" when he knew how to help. "I've been feeling them slip away all week."

Richie had been staring into his lap, but now he looked up, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Didn't want to freak you out," Virgil said, trying to smile.

Richie jumped up and began to pace. "Why did they do this to us? We're the good guys. It's not fair!" He kicked the automated cooler he'd built six months ago and muttered, "Ow." When he turned back to Virgil, there were tears in his eyes. "Backpack," he whispered, and he bowed his head, his whole body trembling.

Virgil took Richie in his arms. _Okay, looks like I can't wait. _"Richie…" But he had no words, so he drew Richie against him and just held him for a moment. When Richie's breathing began to slow and his trembling had eased somewhat- he was forcing himself to be calm in a situation that defied reason- Virgil tried to guide him back to mundane things, tried to distract him. "Then again, if we're not fighting Bang Babies, we'll have time to study. Frieda and Daisy won't hate us anymore. Could be okay."

Even if he couldn't read Richie's mind anymore, Virgil realized how hollow his words sounded. Only a year ago, when he himself had lost his powers for a day due to sunspot activity, he'd gone almost crazy. He watched Richie's eyes narrow a little and knew what was coming.

"Do you honestly _believe_ that?" Richie looked both angry and hurt.

_This isn't helping. I'm not very good with death. I never have been. And we're both scared. Because when our powers are gone, Brainiac will still be there. Sean Foley will still be coming. And nothing will be able to bring Backpack back to life. _"How long have we got?" _Until we lose everything we've depended on?_

"I truly have no idea."

"What say we jet over to see if the doctor's in?" _Not that he can help us, but moving around might help._

"Assuming we can stay in the air."

"Good point." Virgil had a brief, vivid image of dangling above Dakota, waiting to drop a hundred stories. "Fly low."

But they were only a block from the gas station when Richie flew up to a rooftop and shut off his skates. Fearing the worst, Virgil followed him, landing lightly beside him. "Richie-"

"I'm sorry." Richie wasn't looking at him. "I flipped out and it sounded so childish and stupid and-" His hands were shaking again; he balled them into fists in an attempt to make them stop. "I'm sorry, Virg. I know you're going through this, too. I didn't mean to act like I was two."

Virgil turned Richie's head gently with his fingertips. "Rich, I'm not angry with you. And if you want forgiveness, I'll give it. Come on; when my moms died, I screamed and kicked and threw things and tried to run away. You might lose Backpack. You're trying your best to be brave, but you can't be that way forever." Virgil hugged his lover. "Please, Rich, don't blame yourself. At least you're trying to keep it together."

Richie rested his head on Virgil's shoulder for a moment, then sighed. He stepped back and tried to dredge up a smile. It didn't work. "I love you, V."

"I love you, too."

Richie started to the edge of the roof. "I'll be okay for as long as I have to be. Let's go see what Dr. Todd has to say for himself. I guess it's too much to hope he ever thought of a cure."

"I'd rather hope than have nothing at all," Virgil answered.

Flying close together, they resumed their journey.

oOo

_If anybody asks me why I'm back here with Ebon's crew, now that they've all been sprung, I can't tell you. I don't get it myself, except maybe I'm here because I can't find Virgil and Richie and I'm scared that whatever happened to Kangor happened to them. _Hotstreak shut off the internal monologue All ti was doing was making him crazy, and making him worry. _If I lose my powers, aside from all the fun I won't be having, who's going to protect Richie from his father? Who's going to protect both Richie and Virgil from Brainiac? Because I know them: powers or no powers, they'll still want to fight alongside the Justice League, and I have to be there for them._

He came back to his surroundings as he and Talon walked up behind Ferret, who was trying to explain to Ebon what had happened to Kangor only half an hour ago. _Yeah, Talon's here, too. We just can't stay away, no matter how much we tell ourselves we hate it._

"You're not making any sense," Ebon said, glaring at Ferret.

"I don't get it neither," Ferret answered. "It was like Kangor was turning… normal."

Hotstreak grabbed Ferret's arm. _No. It can't be. It can't happen. _"hat's crazy."

"It was like a monster mov-" Ferret winced and dropped to the floor. He was glowing slightly and Hotstreak stepped back from him. If this was what it was like to change, Hotstreak didn't even want to be close to it.

_But I'm going to change, too. Just let me stay strong until Brainiac's gone and Sean Foley's dead. Then I can't say I'll like losing my powers, but I won't complain too loudly._

Ebon approached Ferret, glaring down at him. "Get up, Ferret." His voice rose as Ferret cringed away, obviously in pain. "I said, get-"

Talon jumped between them, throwing out her wings to protect Ferret. She had never been afraid of Ebon, even in the beginning. And he never attacked her, no matter what she did. Hotstreak couldn't understand that, but he let it go. "Stop it, Ebon!" Talon shouted. "Open your eyes! He's-he's becoming human!"

Ferret glowed again, and he groaned. Hotstreak watched, unable to look away, as Ferret's strangely-shaped nose shrank.

"Just like Kangor," Talon added.

_And who's next? _Hotstreak turned away. _I have to get to Richie and Virgil, make sure they're okay._

But before he could take a single step, Ebon said, "There's got to be some more gas. Whoever made the cure must have had some of the gas. We've got to find him."

Hotstreak turned back. _If I can get more of the gas, I could help Virgil and Richie. Okay. I'll follow Ebon. For now. Besides, if I go with him, I can find out what he's up to and maybe help him get his black ass thrown back in prison._

oOo

Hotstreak considered the concrete wall. If he didn't have enough firepower, this would be a lot harder. Gritting his teeth, he shot as much fire at the wall as he could. It exploded inwards. He started forward at once. _That's done; maybe I can even get us out of here without hurting anyone too badly. Richie and Virgil wouldn't like it if I put somebody in the hospital._

Dr. Todd and his assistant were on the floor; the assistant was unconscious. _Damn it. Well, maybe I can keep things from getting any worse. _"Hey, Doc. Remember me? Hotstreak? Thought you'd want to meet some of my pals." _Stupidest-sounding introduction I've done in a while. But hey, give me a break; I'm trying to be nice here. I'm new at this. _"This is Talon, Shiv-"

Ebon shoved his way past Hotstreak. "Skip the intros, Stupid. This ain't a party."

Hotstreak's hands fisted, but for the moment all he could produce was steam. "Who you calling stupid?" Talon grabbed his arm, and Hotstreak glared at her, but most his anger was saved for the shadowy asshole that stood in front of him.

Ebon lifted Dr. Todd off the floor and glared at him. "So, you're the one who came up with this lousy cure." He began to glow, and with a groan he dropped the doctor.

"Yes, and it's working. So whatever you do to me won't change a thing."

_Brave, _Hotstreak thought, _but typical. _He watched Shiv kneel beside the assistant, lifting him a little. Shiv turned his right hand into a buzz saw.

"Tough talk," Ebon said, and Hotstreak could hear the smile in his voice. "But are you sure you speak for your homeboy over there?"

_Hey, if I'm on the good side, how come I'm not doing something about this?_

_Simple. I don't know what to do. I made things bad for Aquamaria; I don't want to screw up anyone else's life because I mess with something I don't understand. _Hotstreak frowned, not sure he liked this new, cautious side to his personality.

Dr. Todd looked at his assistant for a moment, then turned back to Ebon.

_Here is comes, _Hotstreak thought. _This is why I never wanted to have friends. But here I am, in love with two superheroes. I hope nothing like this ever happens to us._

"You had to have some of the old Bang Baby gas to make up a cure. I want whatever you got left."

_I feel like I want to burn something. _Hotstreak looked down at his flame-less fists and then slammed his right first into his open left palm in frustration. _Ebon's right; there's got to be some of that gas still here. If I can steal that gas from Ebon, I'll take it to Richie and he can make up a cure… assuming he hasn't lost his Bang Baby smarts. And if he has, maybe just taking another whiff of the gas will help him. _He glared at his fists. _And me, too._

Dr. Todd glanced again at his assistant, and at Shiv, would was grinning like a little, evil gremlin. "in the safe," the doctor said, not meeting Ebon's gaze. "Over there."

"Hotstreak, open it."

Hotstreak pulled his arm free of Talon's grip. What was she trying to do, anyway? Protect him? "Open it yourself."

"Didn't you hear the man? Same thing's going to happen to you as Kangor unless you do like I say."

Hotstreak sneered. "Make me." _Why is it that Ebon and Shiv get to keep their powers when I can't even make a single flame?_

The air was suddenly shattered by the sound of Talon's Bang Baby scream. Hotstreak and Ebon both covered their ears as the scream went on, taking much longer than it would have if she, too, wasn't suffering the effects. The safe at last opened and Talon said, "You're both acting like jerks."

_She sounds scared, _Hotstreak thought. _Is she afraid of being human again? _He wouldn't blame her if she was, and he took a step, as if to help her, or at least shoot her an apologizing look.

Talon picked up the canister of gas. "Now let's-" She began to glow and her words turned into moans. She dropped to the floor and her wings first shrank, then disappeared. Her face, too, changed, and Hotstreak saw how pretty she had once been.

"No!" Ebon shouted. "Not Talon!"

_Because she's strong and you can use her, or because you actually care? _Hotstreak pushed past Ebon, thinking to get to Talon, to comfort her. His misgivings about being near her while she changed vanished.

Shiv turned his head towards the door. "Hey, look! It's-" A bolt of energy sent him tumbling away from the assistant.

As one, Hotstreak and Ebon said, "Static!"

Hotstreak thought he would never be so glad to fight Virgil and Richie. _I can't really do much damage. And in the middle of everything, maybe I'll be able to grab the gas._

"You sure you're up for this?" Richie asked.

"No, but if we go down fighting, I'm glad it's against these guys."

The barest smile appeared on Richie's face. "Oh yeah. That's a real comfort."

"Burn em," Ebon ordered, seeming to forget that Hotstreak had defied him only moments ago. His eyes rested on Richie, and he looked both ready to strangle the blonde and to embrace him.

"With pleasure," _since I don't have any flames to speak of, and anything to keep you from dealing with Richie yourself. _He advanced on the two teens, snapping his fingers as if he was trying to start a spark. Nothing happened, of course, and Hotstreak grinned inside himself even while he put a frightened expression on his face. "What's the deal?"

Virgil, still able to fly, charged into him and sent him flying across the room. Or that's what it looked like; Hotstreak felt the cushion of electricity Virgil wrapped around him so he wouldn't get hurt. _Huh. Controlled falling. Nice trick. _He watched out of the corner of his eye as Richie slammed into Shiv without showing any attempt at gentleness.

Hotstreak was vaguely aware that Ebon was close to the gas, but he had to face Virgil, at least for the moment. Virgil's eyes sparkled, but Hotstreak wasn't sure if that was with anger or amusement. _Damn. Does he know I'm playing? _He had counted on Richie knowing it, but Richie wasn't here to remind Virgil. _What do I do? _Well, when push came to shove, what did he always do, assuming he didn't have any flames? _I talk. _"What's the problem, Sparky? You running out of juice?" _Oh, yeah, that's sure to let Virgil know that I'm on his side. Way to go, Hothead._

"Ha! Look who's talking? I've seen birthday candles hotter than you."

As one, they jumped at each other, reverting to using their strength instead of their powers.

_And while we fight, Ebon might get away. How do I explain that to Virgil without making it look obvious that I'm not trying to kill him? _Hotstreak glanced to his right, watching Shiv, whose powers still worked, damn him, advancing on Richie, who didn't seem to have much in the way of defense. _I've got to get over there. _He tried to shove Virgil backwards, but Virgil had also caught sight of Richie and he was trying just as hard to defeat Hotstreak. _Damn it! Damn it! He really_ does_ think I've gone back to being bad! Fuck! _Hotstreak shoved even harder.

Shiv was taunting Richie, and it made Hotstreak's blood boil.

"By the time I'm done-" slice, slice with those hands-turned-to-buzz saws- "you won't even be half the superhero you once were."

Then Richie's voice, still confident even as he was forced to back up, "Then here's something-" he tossed a Zap Cap- "for you to remember me by."

Any other Bang Baby would have dropped the Zap Cap, which waited half a second before going off. Shiv wasn't most Bang Babies. He stared at the little egg-shaped thing in bewilderment.

Hotstreak waited for the explosion, hoping the Cap would tie Shiv up. Instead, it exploded and Shiv was covered in sticky goo like thick spider webs mixed with vanilla pudding.

"Yuck!" Shiv jumped at Richie again.

Ebon shouted, "Hotstreak! Shiv!" His voice was strained, and Hotstreak shoved Virgil away, surprised at his sudden strength. Flinging out his arms, he pretended to send a stream of fire towards Virgil and Richie.

Except it wasn't pretend, because his fists suddenly ignited. Richie was right in the stream's path! _No, I'll take that back!_

Virgil pushed Richie out of the way, shouting, "Down!"

Hotstreak leapt into Ebon's vortex, hoping the thing would hold until he got to the other side. Behind him, he heard Ebon order Shiv to get the gas. _I guess we're leaving Talon. I hope she's okay. _He knew Virgil and Richie would take care of her. _And now I'm really screwed. Virgil must be really pissed now. How could I ruin this? How? I'm such a moron! Will they just give up on me now? _He thought about trying to run back to them, but… _I can't show up empty-handed. I'll have to get the gas, bring them some hope. Maybe then I can earn their trust again._

oOo

Richie was startled that Hotstreak was actually shooting flame at him, actually fighting them both, that he couldn't move. Only When Virgil shouted, "Down!" and shoved him to the floor, out of harm's way, did Richie actually understand that yes, Hotstreak had really attacked them. It made no logical sense to him, but Richie at least acknowledged that such a thing could happen.

As Ebon disappeared, taking Shiv, Hotstreak, and the gas, Richie sat up and said, "You know, if the superhero thing doesn't work out, you could have a real future in pro football."

Virgil smiled a little, then turned to look at the doctor and his assistant. "Dr. Todd, how's your friend?"

The assistant was rubbing his head, moaning softly. "He'll be fine," Dr. Todd said, his hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Looks like everybody's okay," Virgil said as he and Richie stood.

But Richie's eyes had fallen on Talon, who looked completely human again. She was moaning softly and didn't seem to have the energy to stir from her place on the floor. "No everybody."

"We'll take her to the hospital," Virgil said. "It's only a block from here." He glanced at his shield, which he'd started to unfold. "Maybe we'd better walk, just in case."

Richie nodded.

Virgil approached slowly, one hand outstretched. "We're going to take you to the hospital to get some help, okay?"

She blinked up at him, then her eyes closed and she went limp.

"Unconscious?" Virgil asked.

"Maybe, maybe not." Richie knelt and, removing one of his gloves, felt at her wrist for a pulse. Nodding, he stood and put his glove back on. "She should be okay until we get to the hospital." He reached up and touché one of Backpack's arms and his eyes closed for a moment.

"You okay?" Virgil asked as he lifted Talon into his arms.

"No. But I'll make it." Richie didn't even look at Dr. Todd. How could the man understand what it was like to lose someone? He wouldn't understand the link between Richie and his robot, even if Backpack were able to explain his end of it. There were plenty of reason to be furious at the doctor, but nothing would be accomplished by yelling at him. _And after that first Zap Cap turned to mush, I don't think I'd even want to try threatening him. There's no use asking if he developed a cure. I know he didn't._

But Virgil was asking, just the same. "Dr. Todd, is there any way to undo your cure?"

Dr. Todd blinked. "Well, I suppose if you inhaled more of the gas… That's what that shadow-creature wants to do, isn't it?"

"Probably," Virgil answered. "Is there any other way?"

"Not that I know of. I certainly didn't develop anything. Trust me; you'll both be a lot happier. I heard her." He jutted his chin at Talon. "She wants to be human again. You'll get used to it."

Richie's hand went to Backpack again.

"Let's go," Virgil said, starting for the door. Richie followed, not trusting himself to look back.

They didn't talk on the way to the hospital. What was there to say? Except Richie was starting to have doubts about Hotstreak; not what the older teen had done, but why he'd done it. _Is it possible he wasn't trying to hurt me? _All logic argued against that, and Richie decided to keep his mouth shut. They had other concerns besides Hotstreak right now, and as much as Richie wanted to drop everything and make the redhead explain himself, he knew his duty.

By the time Talon had been set up in a hospital room, she was coming around. A minute or so after she first stirred, she asked for a mirror. A nurse brought her one- apparently many Bang Babies had asked for the same thing- and Talon gazed at her reflection, awe-struck. At first, she didn't seem to notice the superheroes, but then she spoke to them.

"It's like waking from a nightmare. And I never want to go back."

_Just like Dr. Todd said, _Richie thought. _She wants to be human. _"We're glad for you, Talon."

"Please don't call me that. My name's Teresa."

"Okay, Teresa," Virgil said, and he smiled at her, letting her know all was right between them. "But we need your help. We need to know what Ebon plans to do with that tank of gas."

"We figure he's trying to restore his powers," Richie added.

"It's worse than that. He's gonna set off another Big Bang."

Richie and Virgil looked at each other, and Richie read his own thought in Virgil's eyes: they either needed to stop that from happening, or be there when it did so they would be able to fight back. Other concerns: Brainiac, Sean Foley, Backpack, had to be secondary to stopping Ebon. Richie nodded almost imperceptibly. _Let's go._

oOo

A trickle of information started in a far corner of Backpack's mind. Focusing on it, dragging his consciousness towards it, the robot realized that he was hearing an echo of Richie's thoughts. _Find Ebon… Stop second… Bang. Can't find…_

Backpack turned his attention to the police bands. They were all a-jumble. Channeling them through his conscious mind, he sent them, en masse, to Richie, hoping the blonde would be able to make something of them.

But Richie's mind, slowed by the loss of Bang Baby genius, couldn't cling to any of it. His frustration flooded Backpack, almost sending the robot back into unconsciousness. Then, as if he sensed that he was hurting his invention, Richie pulled back and forced himself to try focusing on the data again. Bits of thought came at Backpack again. _Where… Ebon… _

_Richie, you can't fight Ebon! If he still ahs his powers and you don't, he could rape you again, or- _But Backpack's panic was draining him. He forced it away, forced himself not to think of the future. What did Richie need? That's what Backpack would give him.

_Set off… Big Bang… need to find metahumans._

One police broadcast caught Backpack's attention and he sent it with all his mind, blocking everything else, wanting Richie to get this one piece of information: _Metahumans heading towards the docks. Metahumans heading towards the docks. _He didn't even waste power wishing for Richie to get the message. He just sent it, over and over again, until the darkness swam up to meet him and he sank into it, unable to stay conscious any longer.

oOo

On the deserted shit, Slipstream wondered if Ebon would really be able to deliver.

He stood with others- Boom, Shiv- and hoped, though he wasn't sure for what. _If I get my powers back, and Static doesn't, I can find him and take him. Or at least I can find Richie Foley and make him take me to Static. But if no one gets their powers back, that might be even better. _He glanced down at himself. A few short months weren't enough to turn him into a powerhouse of muscle, but he had lost almost eighty pounds of fat and had gained ten pounds of muscle. _There's still a way to go, but I can do it. I know I can. Maybe it'd work out for the best if I just back off and wait to see what happens._

Sighing, he decided, _No. I misss my powers. Static aside, I want to be able to take things for my own. Ebon can help me get there, if he'll just get out here already. He called this meeting; why isn't he out here? Doesn't he understand we have work to do? Doesn't he understand we don't have a lot of time? What's he doing- fixing his hair? _Slipstream grinned at his own joke, then made his face expressionless. _I don't want anyone to know what I'm thinking. That's something else I'm going to change this time out: I'm going to be thinner, meaner, and stealthier._

Finally, a door opened and a tall, dark-skinned, man strode out.

Shiv asked, his voice shocked, "Where's Ebon?"

_That's Ebon, _Slipstream thought. _He's just like the rest of us now. _And, in the back of his mind, he wondered if he might be able to take Ebon in a fistfight. _It's possible, even likely. I've spent these last months getting stronger while he just relied on his powers. _Slipstream glanced around at the other Bang Babies. _But I don't know how many of these are loyal to Ebon. Shiv is, but I can't speak for the others._ He watched Ebon approach, and knew that his time wasn't yet. _But I'll be ready when it comes._

oOo

They had stopped to rest and regroup on the edge of a rooftop. Richie sat with his hands gripping the edge, tension easy to read in the line of his body. Gazing out across the city, he said, "It's no use. I can't decipher Backpack's incoming police data. There's too much."

Virgil reached out, grasping Richie's hand, searching for some way to break through Richie's depression, which had resurfaced after they left Talon. He knew Richie was fighting it; he could see the strain on his boyfriend's face. But he knew his lover was fighting a losing battle. "Is there anything you _can_ understand?"

"Just that…" Richie focused again, like a runner increasing speed for the final approach to the finish line. Virgil admired him for that extra burst of mental energy. "There seem to be some metahumans heading towards the docks." By the set of his shoulders, and the helpless gaze he turned on Virgil, it was apparent he couldn't make himself hope.

"The docks!" Virgil jumped up and Richie doggedly followed. "Where the first Big Bang happened." He met Richie's comprehending gaze. As one, they took off again, praying they would get there before it was too late. The data wasn't much to go on; the docks were huge. But hopefully they would get lucky.

oOo

Hotstreak hated himself. No two ways about it. And he knew Talon had to at least half-hate him. Here she was, back where she definitely didn't want to be, being guarded by someone who was supposed to be her friend, someone she had at least half-trusted. _And I'm too much of a coward to- _He stopped as rage lit him from the inside. _I'm not a coward! I was never a coward! _When he'd been young, teachers had taught about bullies, had taught that bullies were insecure and usually afraid. _I was never like that. And I'll be damned if I'll be like that now._

Turning to Talon, he met her accusing gaze. He moved so that he was less than a foot from her, and he whispered, "I'm in love with Virgil and Richie. We're together, or at least we were before I screwed up and accidentally attacked them. I thought I wouldn't have enough power to do that, but I did. Now they probably don't trust me, but I'm going to try to regain their-"

"If they really trust you, they still trust you," Teresa said. "You just have to quit acting like a jerk and help them." She was smiling just a little, as much as her fear would allow. "Help them, and help me."

He nodded. "I will."

They could hear Ebon out in the next room, telling the other Bang Babies that they would have to serve him.

"Now's the time," Teresa said. "Let's get out there. I'll challenge Ebon and you look for a way to get that canister away from him. Just make sure it doesn't open around me." She started towards the door without waiting to see if he would follow. She lunged out into the main room, struggling with the ropes that bound her wrists. "No!"

Ebon turned and stretched out his arm, catching her around the throat. "Nobody quits, including you." But he couldn't hold the position; his arm wobbled like Jell-O and he had to pull back.

She sneered at him triumphantly. "You're scared. You were nothing before the Big Bang, and that's you're gonna be again. Nothing."

Unable to face her, Ebon turned on Hotstreak, who stood to her right. "I thought I told you to keep her quiet."

Hotstreak scowled. "No. She's right."

The main door the large room began to smoke and its sides began to melt.

_Virgil! Am I glad to see you! _Hotstreak started forward, but Teresa glanced at him, and he stopped. She wanted him to wait. And since she'd been right about so many other things...

Richie said, joking with his voice, if not his eyes, "You guys really need to oil these hatches."

Hotstreak read the strain in Richie's face and his heart went out to the blonde.

Extending his hand, Virgil grunted softly, using all the power he had left. "Hey!" Ebon grabbed the canister of Bang Baby gas with both hands and tried to hold it, but he couldn't.

It flew across to Virgil, who glanced at Richie and said, "Okay, now we run."

Hotstreak waited until Ebon and the others had run, then he glanced at Talon. She gestured with her head towards a bit of jagged metal where she could cut her bonds. _And her wrists, if she's not careful. _Hotstreak followed Ebon, knowing he was doing the right thing. Let Shiv and the Monster- Tamara, follow right on Virgil and Richie's heels- they couldn't catch them. Neither of them was clever enough, or quick enough. Hotstreak wanted to be where Ebon was in case the former shadow man tried to hurt Richie again, not to mention Slipstream, who was looking awfully buff for a guy who had topped the scales at Four hundred pounds only a few months before. Following them, Hotstreak jogged up a flight of stairs and rushed around a corner. He heard Richie ask, "Where to now?" and Ebon's reply: "Nowhere."

Then Virgil did one of the few stupid things in his life; he rushed into a small room.

"Great," Richie muttered. "A dead end."

"Got that right." Ebon shoved his way past Hotstreak, who had wanted to get in first, and advanced on the superheroes. Except his attention was almost solely on Richie.

Hotstreak wondered how he could take out all the others and manage to defend Virgil and Richie at the same time. _Okay, six of them, and three of us. But first I have to get between Ebon and Richie._

Virgil moved a little so he was half-screening Richie, making his movement almost seem accidental. He didn't want to give away that he was worried about his partner.

Remarkably, it was Ebon himself who provided Hotstreak an opportunity to step in. "Take the gas from the man, Hotstreak," he said, his eyes flicking to Virgil before resting on Richie again.

"Gladly." Hotstreak stalked forward, trying to look menacing. He caught a look of understanding in Richie's eyes, and smirked, meeting first Richie's eyes, then Virgil's, praying they could read his intentions. He turned and strode out. When he was sure no one was looking, he ran.

oOo

Ebon's reason had almost been overthrown by passion when he saw Gear in the lab he, Talon, Shiv and that damned Hotstreak had broken into. The only thing that stopped him from leaping across the distance was this: he couldn't take the chance that Gear still had his powers or, worse, that they weren't Bang-given powers, but just his natural intelligence. _I can still have him. I can still break him. If only I have my full powers. Then he'll submit to me, like before, but this time I'll…_

_What? Rape him? That took care of your need for all of three hours, remember? You can't keep taking him like that. He'll die._

_But he'll never trust me again._

_Make him trust you. Force him to obey you, then gain his trust slowly. Rape Shiv if you need to let off some stress. He'll submit; you know he will. Or go find Richie Foley. You know where he lives; it was in the newspaper. And the suburbs aren't far from here. Once you have your powers back, take Richie to be your whore and make Gear your lover. Of course, you'll have to kill Static. _

_If I have my powers and he doesn't have any, that won't be a problem._

All this had poured through Ebon's head while he stole the canister and tried to bring Talon, failing in that last because she wouldn't come close to him and he could barely hold the whirlpool open. He hadn't even looked at Gear before he disappeared, not wanting to reveal his burning desire, but also not having the strength.

And now, when he had the canister and he was ready to gain back all his old powers, Gear had appeared, as if he were a virgin sacrifice ready to be slaughtered. Ebon's eyes had lit for a moment, and for that brief moment, he'd let his guard down.

It had cost him dearly. Static took the canister.

_But I have you again, _Ebon thought as he advanced on the trapped, powerless superheroes in the derelict ship's cramped storage room. Static moved a little in front of Gear, protecting him, shielding him, but Ebon didn't need to touch his prize yet. "Take the gas from the man, Hotstreak." The redhead had been a thorn in his side lately, always arguing, but Ebon assumed that was fear of the unknown, of being without his powers. Hotstreak would fall back into his old role of half-here-man when they were all strong again.

Strangely enough, Static didn't try to stop Hotstreak from taking the gas; it was almost as if he'd given it over. _Now why-? Wait. If Hotstreak and Static fought, who would protect Gear? _Ebon's eyes narrowed as he took in the tender curve of Gear's backside. _You'll be mine, soon. _"Now, we're gonna lock you in here for awhile. But we'll drop in again, soon as we got our powers back." Ebon registered the furious glare Static sent him, but most of his attention was on Gear, looking for a trace of fear. He saw none, and suddenly his pants felt tight.

But Static was smiling. "You mean if Hotstreak lets you have your powers back."

Ebon whirled. Hotstreak was gone. And it did no good to ask the other Bang Babies because they weren't smart enough to put two and two together, let alone watch each other for treachery.

And when the Bang Babies still stood there, Ebon yelled, "You, go that way. You, go that way." Boom was still standing there. "Find him!" Then Gear asked, stepping right up to Ebon, as of right, "Which way should we go?"

Ebon wanted to make love to the blonde right then and there for his sheer, invincible gall. Instead, he slammed the door in Gear's face and locked it. _All right, first thing I do after I have my powers is fuck Shiv. Then I go find Richie and make him mine. Then I'll kill Static and turn Gear's fear of me into love. It won't be easy, but I'm up to that._

But ten minutes later, after the ship had been searched, top to bottom, Ebon was too furious to think about any plans for the future. His one and only goal: find Hotstreak. He sent the other Bang Babies to the docks, ordering them to search the nearby buildings. (Again, Boom was the last to shuffle off, and Ebon almost throttled him.) But, alone on the vessel, Ebon remembered that some of the equipment- like the mechanical lock on the storeroom door- was still working. He dashed up to the cabin on the top deck and flicked on the surveillance screens. On the third screen he checked, there was Hotstreak, just sneaking into a room, probably to hide and sniff the gas.

Ebon ran from the room.

oOo

Richie held Backpack up to the door. "Come on, Backpack. Use your drill." His voice cracked and he turned haunted eyes on Virgil. "It's no use. He can't link to my thoughts anymore." Richie held the robot to his chest and bowed his head, squeezing his eyes shut against the threat of tears. He seemed to shut the world out. Going perfectly still, he gave up the struggle and wept, the tears tricking down his cheeks.

_Richie… _Virgil wanted to reach out, but he couldn't. He felt guilty enough that he couldn't share Richie's pain. Trying to touch his boyfriend would be yet another sin.

But thoughts of Ebon- of what Ebon would do- and of Hotstreak, urged him forward. He spoke, his voice clear, firm, struggling for the emotion he wanted Richie to hear. "We need to get out of here." _And what? Make Ebon pay? Richie doesn't want to hear that. And even if he does, I'm not going to put it in his mind. He'd hate me for it later. _"We have to do what Backpack would have wanted. And what he wanted, Rich, more than anything else, was to keep you safe. To do that, we have to escape and stop Ebon." Richie wasn't looking at him, and Virgil wanted to say, "Please," but he was afraid to talk anymore. Memories of Richie's hard voice when the blonde had half electrocuted Slipstream flashed behind his eyes. Even if that had been partially Gear's doing, Virgil didn't want to awake such feelings in his lover.

Richie raised his head, and his eyes locked with Virgil's. "Okay, V." He hugged Backpack one more time, then tucked the robot under his arm and squared his shoulders. "What else can we try?"

"I'm going to try to whip up one more blast," Virgil said, moving so that his fist was less than two inches from the door. "One, two-"

The door clicked open. Talon was standing there, looking at them.

"Of course," Virgil said, "that also works." _How did Talon get here? Doesn't matter now._

Her voice was strained. "Ebon and Hotstreak set off the gas. It's gonna fill the ship."

"You better get out of here," Virgil said.

"No kidding!" She turned and sprinted away.

Richie looked to Virgil, his eyes filled with nothing but purpose. "What do we do?"

Virgil started to jog away. "Whatever it takes to stop Ebon, and save Hotstreak, if he's still worth rescuing."

"He's worth it," Richie answered. "He's trying to do the right thing. I know he is."

"Rich, how can you be so sure? I mean, if you say it's true, I trust you, but-"

"I've lost my genius powers, not my powers of observation," Richie answered. "Hotstreak still wants to be with us. And, in his own way, he was trying to stop Ebon."

"By stealing the gas? Rich, does that make sense to you?"

Richie grinned for an instant before his face hardened again as he remembered who he carried with him. "It would if I was Hotstreak. Keep in mind he's never had to be a huge problem-solver. First his fists, then his flames solved his problems for him." Richie jogged a little faster so he could meet Virgil's gaze. "Please trust him, Virg. He's worth it. I promise he is."

"Okay. We'll try it. But if he tries to hurt us…"

"We won't."

Virgil led the way around a corner, even as he heard a muffled boom from up ahead. Suddenly, the corridor was filled with swirling purple gas and both of them sank to the floor, coughing and covering their mouths.

Virgil listened to Richie coughing harshly. The blonde had lost his hold on Backpack, though he reached out to him even as his whole body shook with the strength of his coughing. _He could choke to death on this. And me- why am I suddenly protected? _The gas wasn't bothering his throat anymore. A soft crackle about his ears and hair startled Virgil and he almost laughed. Reaching out, he extended the electrical field away from his body, pushing the gas away from him, away from Richie. In moments, every trace of gas was gone from the corridor and Virgil stood, reaching out to help Richie to his feet.

Richie's eyes were lit with hope. "Bro, you have your powers again." At once, his eyes went to Backpack.

A beat of silence, then Backpack jumped up, crawling up Richie's legs to settle on his back.

Richie touched Backpack's arm and a radiant smile lit up his face.

"Yeah, looks like you do, too," Virgil said, resting a hand on Richie's where the blonde still held one of Backpack's arms.

"Aw, yeah! I can interpret the data stream again!" Which meant, in Richiespeak, "I can hear Backpack! I really can! And he's okay!"

Virgil gave Richie a moment, then he turned towards the front of the ship. "Come on. We have to find Ebon and Hotstreak." But even as they started away, the ship rocked as other doors, like the one that had expelled the gas into their corridor, gave way. The door two yards ahead of them exploded outward and thick, black tentacles pushed out into the hallway.

"What… is that/" Richie took a step forward and Virgil thought his boyfriend might have already guessed, though he himself had no idea.

The tentacles retreated and the two superheroes followed, too focused to feel the exhilaration of being able to fly again. Virgil wondered if some of the gas had gotten into the water and Bi Banged an octopus, though how such a creature could get on the ship was beyond him.

Soaring out onto the main deck, wanting to be above the creature when it emerged, they waited for it to come out of one of the port holes. But suddenly the deck itself exploded up and out, and they were driven back by a towering creature of shadow and flame that reminded Richie of the balrog in _Lord of the Rings. _Except this thing had _two_ faces and Richie didn't think the balrog was a two-headed monster. It towered above Richie and Virgil, who were hovering near what remained of the deck. The creature roared.

"Oh man," Virgil whispered. "It's… Ebon and Hotstreak. They musta sucked up so much gas they fused together."

"Whoa." Even as Richie took off to avoid being hit by the creature's descending arm (if you could call such a shapeless bit of destructive power an arm) he thought, _But they can be separated again with Dr. Todd's drug, then Hotstreak can be given back his powers. But where are we going to get a big enough dose of it to cure them before Ebon kills us? _He could read the intention in the flame-shadow's eyes, and he knew Ebon was driving _that_ brain.

oOo

Hotstreak started to unscrew the canister lid. _I'll get my powers back, chase Ebon and others away, then help Virgil and Richie. _He imagined their grateful kisses when they had their powers back. _We never doubted you, Hotstreak. _He winced. _Have to tell them my name is now… _

"I want that gas!" Ebon leapt on him, and Hotstreak tossed the gas so it rolled across the floor. He couldn't let Ebon get it. He couldn't take the chance that Ebon would get his powers back and leave Hotstreak helpless. Over and over they rolled, grunting, cursing each other. Hotstreak's eyes began to burn. At first, he thought hatred and anger caused this, but then he saw that Ebon's face was changing. His muscles were expanding. Ebon's clothes tore apart and he was consumed in shadow. Hotstreak, on the bottom now, began to feel his own muscles strengthening and he shoved at Ebon until they were both upright, though still locked together. Only then did Hotstreak notice the purple clouds floating everywhere. He cursed himself and struggled to get free of Ebon. _The first idea failed. Second one: get to Richie and Virgil with the gas before Ebon finds them. _But Ebon wouldn't let him go.

Suddenly pain raced through Hotstreak's body and he screamed, trying now just to free himself of Ebon. He saw triumph in Ebon's eyes, quickly followed by panic. _We're stuck! We're stuck! _His idiotic mind clanged these words in his head, and Hotstreak couldn't tell it to shut up. All he could do was struggle in vain to pry himself loose. Glancing down for a moment, he screamed again at the sight of his skin melting into Ebon's skin. No wonder he was in so much pain.

Then his legs were fusing with Ebon's and then he lost consciousness.

It lasted only a moment, but Hotstreak sensed it was for a crucial few seconds. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He had the vague impression that he was lying on his back, and he felt heavier than he ever had before.

_That's because you're now two, fool._

_Ebon? How the hell can I hear his-?_

_We're one body now._

Ebon suddenly shut up, and Hotstreak knew why. If Ebon was experiencing even half of what he was, he had a good reason to shut up. Image after image flooded Hotstreak's mind: scenes of the other Bang Babies, scenes of Adam- he knew it was Adam, but didn't know how he knew- as a very young boy. Scenes of Richie- _no, Gear; he was in costume; he must be called Gear_- crouching by Ebon's bed, fixing Backpack. More: two people (Ebon's parents) pleading for their lives before they were shot. Virgil in the padded room, being watched on a screen as he paced. The first appearance of Gear, who had defeated Kangor and Shiv and Talon. And yet more: not images, now, but feelings, impressions. The feel of fourteen-year old Richie pressed against him, struggling to be let free as Ebon kidnapped him after Static flew away to tend to some emergency, leaving his running buddy alone and vulnerable.

Abruptly, the flow of images and impressions stopped as they found places in Hotstreak's mind. Or rather, as they found places in the new mind that had been created between the two fused Bang Babies.

Ebon's shock ran between them, overwhelming Hotstreak's own as he tried to wonder how they could share a mind and yet retain their own thoughts. _Gear is Richie Foley! Gear is Richie Foley! You've known for months and you didn't tell me! You son of a bitch, you didn't tell me! I could have had him all to myself and you- _He stopped. _Where does he live?_

Hotstreak could feel Ebon sifting through the shared information, seeking the answer. Hotstreak threw the picture of the house in the suburbs up, not wanting Ebon anywhere near Richie. He felt guilty the instant he'd done it, knowing he was putting Richie's foster parents in danger, but it was too late. Ebon had taken the information and misconstrued Hotstreak's guilt as a sign that he'd won.

Hotstreak knew now that he could keep information from Ebon, and he only hoped Ebon didn't figure out the same thing. Because besides the obvious lack of secrecy, Hotstreak understood that Ebon had taken over their shared body. The only power Hotstreak had, in other words, was the power of deception. He clung to that power, masking it for terror, as Ebon stood, becoming accustomed to their new limbs.

Hotstreak could still see, feel and hear. He watched the gas escape the room they'd been in and realized that he was seeing it through four eyes. _We have two heads, _he thought.

Ebon laughed. _You mean I have two heads. You're just along for the ride. Your powers are mine, but you can't use them. _He looked up. _The deck is right above us. _He crouched to leap. Then he paused and offered Hotstreak one parting shot: _Now that I know, I'll find a way to separate us, then I'll take Gear/Richie to be mine. And with Virgil dead, and Richie mine, you won't have either of them. _He laughed. _What makes you think they really wanted you, anyway? Why would anyone want a volatile match like you? Richie will come to trust me, but you can never earn their trust. The first time you lose your temper, it's over._

And before Hotstreak could retaliate- though he was too shaken to say anything just then- Ebon pushed them up and out onto the deck.

Richie and Virgil were there before them, obviously back at full power.

"Oh man," said Virgil. "It's… Ebon and Hotstreak. They musta sucked up so much gas they fused together."

Richie, his eyes wide behind the green tint of his faceplate: "Whoa."

Ebon shouted, "Richie, you're mine!" but all that came out was a roar.

Hotstreak snickered; it was either that or be just as horrified as Ebon. _I think that lost a little in the translation, _he said.

_Fuck off. _Ebon let loose with two streams of fire that were almost solid as flesh. He was aiming for Static, but both heroes had to dodge. Ebon followed Static with his fire, but Static was too quick. Even as Ebon tried to fry him, the cheeky teen did a flip on his disk, taunting.

_They know I'm in here, too, _Hotstreak thought. _Do they think I wanted to be here? Do they think I'm trying to hurt them?_

_I told you they'd never trust you. _Ebon ignored the small charges Static flung at him. They didn't even sting.

Then Richie shouted, "Static! Move!" and hurled a Zap Cap.

_Now we'll know if he cares for me or not, _Hotstreak thought the instant before the Zap Cap struck. If it was light, Richie was after Ebon. If it was water, he was after Hotstreak.

The Zap Cap exploded, drenching them in light.

_Richie loves me! Richie loves me!_

Ebon laughed, more at Richie's attempt then Hotstreak's words, and reached out, swatting Richie like a fly. The blonde tumbled through the air, only to slam into Ebon's open palm. Turning Richie in his hand, Ebon brought the teen towards him. He wouldn't have actually swallowed him, though that's what it looked like with his mouth open, but he wanted to terrify the blonde, at least for the moment, before he decided how he was going to keep him.

Virgil didn't give Ebon a chance to decide his next move. He shouted, "Gear!" and made a ball of energy in his hands as he flew. He slammed into Ebon's arm, where the wrist would have been in a man, severing the hand, at least for a moment. Richie fell, crying out, but landed on his feet. He stared up at the towering shadow-inferno, his hand going for another Zap Cap at his belt, even though he must have known it was useless.

_Richie, get out of here! You can't stop him! Don't let him-_

Ebon stuck his arm into his chest and was rewarded with another hand. As in his shadow-form, he could regenerate. Then he took a step, reaching for Richie again.

Only to be lifted into the air by Virgil, whose eyes were narrowed in concentration.

_But, I'm huge! _Ebon thought.

_Guess you're not as powerful as you-_

_Fuck OFF, Hotstreak! _He struggled in Virgil's grip.

Dimly, Hotstreak heard Richie say, "I've never seen you do this before!"

"That's nothing," Virgil answered. "Watch this." He crossed his hands for a moment and a wave of light and energy, much like the one an exploding star might make, slammed into Ebon/Hotstreak. They collapsed together, Ebon groaning and trying to get his bearings, Hotstreak rejoicing and hoping that _now _one of Richie's Zap Caps would defeat Ebon.

But Ebon picked himself up and the hole in his middle, where the light wave had connected, disappeared. Ebon was grinning inside himself, and Hotstreak knew what was going to happen an instant before it did.

Ebon opened up the swirling vortex, much as he would if he was still all shadow, and added suction to it. He was going to pull Virgil and Richie in. Hotstreak read the plan in Ebon's mind: send Virgil spiraling off somewhere, and carry Richie to the old hideout.

_And how will you make love to him? He won't want you like this, _Hotstreak taunted. But Ebon ignored him. That little detail could be tended to later. He increased the whirlpool's suction.

Richie grabbed onto a pole about ten feet away. Virgil, though… Virgil had nothing to grab. Richie watched, his eyes wide, as Virgil was dragged towards the hole.

"Oh…no…you…don't!" Virgil ground his teeth and pushed himself away from the hole a little. Then he reached out with his powers, seizing a fuel tank. He thrust it behind him so it went into the gaping vortex.

_No! He's going to- _Hotstreak's warning (he didn't want to die any more than Ebon did) came too late. Virgil used his powers to make the tank explode.

The pain ripped through them both, a thousand times worse than their joining together. The burning in Hotstreak's mind and body, like being dipped in dry ice, almost knocked him unconscious again. But he couldn't give in; this time, he was determined that he would stay awake. If there was the slightest chance of getting free of Ebon, he was going to take it.

Hotstreak lost all contact with the outside world as he fought just to stay awake. He didn't even feel the frigid water of Lake Dakota seeping into him as the ship sank beneath the waves.

oOo

Richie and Virgil hovered above the ship, watching it go down. There was no sign of Hotstreak, Ebon, or the creature they'd become. Their hands found each other as they watched the ship's final descent. Richie was crying again, though he didn't seem to realize it, and he gripped Virgil's hand with a strength that seemed almost impossible.

Backpack tried to soothe them both, reminding them that Hotstreak and Ebon could still be alive; water wouldn't kill either of them, just make Hotstreak a little weak. It wouldn't affect Ebon at all. He spoke to both of them silently, suing the link that had reforged between the two teens.

Virgil felt sick with doubt and a sense that something even more terrible was going to happen. Hotstreak's death, if it really was his death, felt like the first of many to come. And each would tear at him, tear at Richie, try to destroy them. He took Richie in his arms, drawing him onto the saucer and wrapping him in a tight embrace, rubbing his shoulders, his arms, as if Richie was the one who had been thrown into the chilly waters of the lake.

Richie pulled off his helmet (Backpack took it) put his head on Virgil's shoulder and wept.


	22. Chapter 5 Final Days, Part One

**A/N:** Okay, this took a while. It's just that I'm teaching five days a week now.

**Warnings:** There are warnings I think I should make, but I don't want to give anything away. Feel free to flame me.

**Warning 1:** Swearing

Enjoy!

Chapter Five: Final Days, Part One

Even when death was so near he could feel its breath, Gear knew he was enjoying himself. And he would lust for the tension of the deception, the stalking danger of being so close and so bound to a creature like Brainiac, long after all that was over. If, that was, he was still counted among the living.

Brainiac struck Gear as both intelligent beyond belief and yet moronic in its refusal to take all the things it had learned and apply them to its new conquests. _It's like learning how to read music, then never looking at a single note. Why gather the knowledge if you're not going to use it?_

But he didn't mind Brainiac's purposeful ignorance; the supercomputer was almost easy to deceive, though Gear refused to get cocky. He knew well that at least part of the responsibility for Earth's future rested with him. _Not that I can about anyone but Virgil, but he wouldn't be happy without his family. _Gear sighed. _Or without Richie. I couldn't have him to myself unless I took over Richie's mind. _Not impossible, but unlikely in the extreme. _Still, there's hope for what I want to come true. But until Brainiac's dead, there's no hope for anything, not even for Virgil to live on in blissful ignorance of my love._

Gear turned his attention back to Brainiac, grateful that he was able to hide any thought he chose from the supercomputer. His shields were much like those Richie had used, except they were undetectable, and so quite safe. _In short, Brainiac thinks I'm being completely honest with it, one hundred percent of the time._ _And that is my greatest advantage. Too bad I can't keep Richie out the same way. _But he'd tried that, and Richie had first suspected, then demolished his shields. _No, I can hide nothing from Richie, unless we're separate like this, and there's no way I could live like this, unless I took over Brainiac's body. And not only does it not have one right now, but I like being in a human body too much to ever really enjoy it. _He thought of the android body Richie had promised him, and sighed. _If that was the only alternative to death, I'd take it. But… but I want… _Again, he sighed. _And here is my one human feeling, and it's the one feeling that won't do me any good._

Bearing his teeth in a forced smile, he approached Brainiac. "Have you heard the latest news? The Bang Babies revolted and stole the last known canister of Big Bang gas. As far as the police know, some of them might even have their powers back."

"That is irrelevant. What have you heard of the Justice League?"

"Nothing. That frequency is still blocked."

"What of Richie?"

"Again, nothing. He's keeping his mind completely sealed." Gear had no idea if this was true; he hadn't even tried to reach Richie. But he wanted to set up every barrier before Brainiac while appearing to be nothing more than helpful. Letting Brainiac know that Richie might be vulnerable was a no-no, at least so far. Richie would find a way to contact Gear when it was time to change that message. _And for now, all I can hope is that the rumors of Static and Gear flying over Dakota are true, that they've regained their powers, and found a way to keep them. _He smiled at the way he spoke so casually of Richie as Gear. _But I'm not exactly his superhero identity anymore, am I? _Yet, he couldn't be bothered to choose another name for himself. There were too many other things that needed to be done.

Brainiac turned its mind from the lack of information- _another deadly flaw,_ Gear thought- and asked about the progress of the android body Gear was building for it. Gear had argued that an android body would be needed eventually, more to divide Brainiac's resources (which were massive) than anything else. _You need to be able to move, _he had said, and, _You can intimidate most of Earth with the proper body, _and, _Without a body, you'll be able to move more quickly, it's true, but what if someone severs the connections between computers somehow? Then you'll need a way to escape._

_Who could possibly do that? _Brainiac had asked, half-curious, though the supercomputer tried to show its contempt only.

_Richie could. And I know there are people on Earth more intelligent than Richie; he just happens to be the closest one right now. Think of the woman who sent the virus throughout the world. She could do it. Alva could do it, with the right scientists, because he's rich and can hire the best._

Now Gear explained that the body was coming along quite well and would be finished in another five or six hours.

Brainiac was pleased. Then it asked something Gear wasn't sure he wanted to answer. "Why do you dream? I know living beings need sleep, but why do you dream? Have you not found it distracting?"

The genuine, child-like curiosity tempted Gear to be honest. But, no; he had dreamed too many strange dreams to be anywhere close to honest. "I hope that I will learn soon how to repress my dreams so that they do not trouble my sleep, but all humans must dream. If we don't, we hallucinate, among other things."

"But you dream about nearly the same things every night, reliving your separation from Richie and dreaming of the future when you will gather information with me for eternity and leave your human mind behind. You should dream different things to be healthy."

"It doesn't matter what I dream, just that I dream. There's a chemical process that happens in the human brain when we dream. No one understands it completely, though I'll have to study it before I separate myself from my human remains. But that isn't now. For now, I must sleep again. I have not slept in two days." It was the best excuse Gear could make for his brief disappearances behind images that trooped by in succession. Any human who remembered his or her own dreams wouldn't have been fooled, because the images were static and not imbued with emotion or change, but Brainiac wasn't human and Gear saw so reason to waste energy on creating dreams that were too complicated when all he needed was the simplest shuffling of images. Brainiac never need know that the images weren't dreams, just as it never need know that Gear could go for a week without sleep and had done so twice already.

"Sleep. When you awaken, we must talk about the next step."

_Yes, you've been hinting at that, with all the delicacy of a stampeding elephant in a drawing room, for three days now. So be it; we're ready to face Richie and the Justice League, or as ready as I dare to make you. _"All right. As son as I wake up." And he went behind first the image of drifting, then sleep, then the static images. Only when he had put those last into place did he turn his mind to Richie. _It's time. I can't put it off. Now I'm putting everything we've planned in jeopardy, but I can't wait for Richie. He needs to know how close Brainiac is to striking._

But before he could truly concentrate and reach out, trying to reopen the hole he'd made in Richie's mind, one image flashed before his eyes and he groaned, wincing. He watched Virgil and Richie making love, knowing that it was mostly his imagination, but taken from feelings that had leaked through the shield Richie had thrown up to keep his alter ego out. Gear brushed distractedly at his tears before forcing himself to turn his back on the vision. _I can't think about that right now. Virgil needs me. _

_And if I'm only saving him so he can love Richie?_

Gear growled and mentally slapped himself. Then he pushed out of Brainiac, knowing he would go undetected and felt for Richie's mind in the distanceless, directionless void between minds. He floated between the two connections for long moments, in almost the worst danger of his entire mission.

…sleeping… beautiful…

That was Virgil's mind. _He must not have his shields up. Idiot._

Richie's mind was quite near and Gear pushed his way in.

Richie came awake at once, the last visages of his dream melting away. _Gear._

_Yes. Brainiac's getting impatient. How close are we to being ready to take it down?_

_We can do it tomorrow. Backpack is helping me with one more shield. Are you all right?_

_Why do you do that to me?_

_What? _Richie seemed genuinely confused.

_Ask after me, actually care about me._

_It's my nature. We've been over that. Why?_

_Just having dreams of being alone with Virgil._

Richie sighed and, to Gear's surprise, didn't seem angry. _He's beautiful. I know. And I know you're helping because you love him. If you _didn't_ dream about him, I'd be worried._

_Damn it, Richie! You're too fucking compliant and accepting! I was thinking about killing you or destroying your part of our mind so I could be with Virgil!_

_So? Gear, that's what you've been trying from the beginning. Why should I be surprised or any more on my guard than I already am?_

_Oh, fuck off. We're wasting time. I have to go back soon. Is there anything you want me to do on this end?_

_How's Brainiac going to try to fight?_

_I've almost finished its android body, hoping that would help to make it more vulnerable._

_It should. Thank you. Have you planted the seeds of our separation?_

For the first time in days, Gear unbent sufficiently to laugh. _They've been planted, taken root, sprouted, and bloomed._

_R_ichie grinned. _Beautiful. What about Backpack's destruction?_

_Brainiac knows it, yes, and believes the link that you and Backpack made has been destroyed. It also doesn't know about your connection to Virgil, but I suggest you tell him to keep his shields up._

_He will. Have you set up the firewalls?_

_Yes. Brainiac's trapped and the moronic computer doesn't even know it yet. It won't understand what a mistake it's made until it enters its android body. But even with the firewalls, I still suggest we destroy every circuit Brainiac has poked its tentacles into. Brainiac needs to be destroyed once and for all. That's the only thing that makes our triple sacrifice worth anything._

_Agreed. We know where Brainiac will be, so we'll be there, early tomorrow morning. Just make sure all Brainiac sees is me, all it hears is me._

_I know. _Gear didn't even bother to hide his irritation.

Richie didn't seem bothered by it. _Be careful, Gear. I'll see you when this is all over._

_I hate you for caring about me._

_I know, but just like you can't help caring about only two things in the whole world- a fact that I don't really believe, if you want to know the honest truth- I can't help worrying about you. But if you want me to keep it to myself, I'll try._

_What do you mean, you don't believe that? I care for myself and for Virgil. Period._

_I'm not going to argue with you, Gear, but I sense more than that. I'll see you on the other side. _Richie waited a moment to see if Gear had anything to say, then he broke the connection, sealing himself up in his mind.

Gear flung himself back to rejoin Brainiac. _Damn Richie. Thinks he knows everything. Thinks he know how I feel. He doesn't. He can't. I only love myself and Virgil. That's it. Damn fucking Richie, who the hell does he think he is?_

_I think the genius protesteth too much. _Gear scowled at himself and went back to Brainiac, ready to explain that he'd gotten all the sleep he needed in just two hours. The idiot supercomputer would believe anything from its newest ally.

oOo

Dr. Todd had released another dose of his cure. For that, if for nothing else, Hotstreak was grateful. It had taken almost three days for the antidote to penetrate the connection he'd been forced to make with Ebon, and in that time, Hotstreak had endured the devil's own dose of suffering, but at last they'd been released. At once, Ebon went off to try and find another cure, but Hotstreak had more important things to worry about.

_Yeah, like getting some clothes. _Glancing down at his shredded shirt and pants, Hotstreak winced. _And there are only two places I could go for clothes: Aunt Sue and Talon. And since Talon is closer- _He waited until after dark, then made his way through the alleyways and the streets where the lamps had been shattered long ago. _Talon- Teresa- probably won't be overjoyed to see me, but I still think she'll help me. Of course, I could just steal some clothes… Except I'm still hoping I can find Richie and Virgil and explain things. _He grimaced at the sorrow that rose, sour and strong, in the back of his throat, and walked faster. _Good thing my shoes mostly survived, at least._

As he half-jogged towards the apartment building where Talon had taken him once when she wanted to peek in on her family during those early days, he thought, _Maybe if I'm not Hotstreak anymore, she might be a little friendlier to me. _He grimaced. _But not Francis. _His mind flashed back to Christmas Eve with Richie suggesting one name after another. _Many of them mean fire. Egan, Kai, Fiyero, Orion, Nuri, Nuriel, Aidan. And there's Adam, which means red earth. _He frowned, muttering the names one at a time to himself. _Not Nuri. It reminds me of this cartoon about a dancing bear named Yuri. Huh. Orion's belt. Yeah, right. Nuriel. _He gagged. _Kai and Egan aren't me. Aidan might be okay. Fiyero… _"Fiyero." He frowned. "Fiyero. Fiyero." He smiled. "Fiyero." A pause. "Fiyero." A slight nod. "Fiyero."

Looking up, he stopped running for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he tried to see the stars beyond the city lights. It was impossible. "My new name is Fiyero. I just hope you like it." Unsure of whom he was talking to, calling himself a fool, he moved on. _And as soon as I'm dressed, I'm going to tell Virgil and Richie. _Then he grinned. _Well, since it's midnight or so, maybe I can wait a few hours. No use scaring them out of their wits. _

_Wake up, you fucking moron! If they cared for you, they would have been out looking for you, wouldn't they?_

Hotstreak stopped, gasping as if he'd been punched in the stomach. That was the sort of comment Ebon had made frequently. Shaking his head, Hotstreak couldn't escape the echo of that torture. Groaning, he stood, staring down at his feet as he tried to just breathe. _Richie… It's not true. I saw the love in their eyes! They wouldn't have given up! Richie must know I'm still alive! He has to know! Maybe Brainiac just struck and they can't-_ That got him moving. Hotstreak broke into an all-out run. _Shit! I'm such a fool! Of _course_ it's Brainiac! It has to be! They've been fighting Brainiac, maybe since the night the ship sank, and now they're in danger! I was made part of the plan! I need to be there to help! _He ignored the thought that he was running through the night, half-naked, and making quite a bit of noise as he sprinted down first one street, then another. _I'm coming, Richie, Virgil. Just hang on til I get there._

_And what if they're not in danger? What if they've just-_

_Shut the hell up! Go stick your cock in a tree and fuck it! They love me! I saw it in their eyes!_

He skidded to a halt outside the apartment building and leapt up the steps. Groaning, he realized he didn't know Talon's last name. He scanned the names by the buzzers and prayed for help. _Okay, God. I need you. Do something._

The front door opened and Hotstreak jumped back so fast he tripped down the stairs. He raised his fists as if he was going to use his firepowers, but of course those didn't exist anymore.

Teresa stared at him, her face hardening. "What are you doing here? We ain't got nothing to steal."

Fiyero held up his hands, palms out, doing his best to seem honest. Hell, he was trying his damnedest to be just that, but how could she know? "Teresa, please. I need your help." And when she didn't slam the door in his face, he took that as a good sign and climbed the first step. "Virgil and Richie might be in trouble. I need to help them. But I…" He coughed and gestured at the rags he wore. "I need some clothes. Please help me," he said, because she hadn't moved; her face was just as hard. "I love them. Please help me save them. All I need is clothes. You don't have to get involved at all."

She stepped back, touching the door as she went.

_She's going to slam it and I'll have to run all the way across town to Aunt Sue. _He shook his head. _No. If she slams the door, I'll just find Virgil and Richie like this. I can't wait any longer. _He backed off the bottom step. "Never mind."

Teresa beckoned to him. "Come in. My mama's boyfriend can loan you a shirt and some decent pants."

Fiyero grinned. "Thank you."

She sighed. "Just don't get used to it." And, when he was just about to enter the house, she hugged him, dragging his head down so she could kiss his cheek. "I thought you were dead. All of Dakota thinks that. I'm glad they were wrong."

oOo

"Richie, I have been watching the house of your foster parents as you instructed, and…"

Richie turned to Backpack, his eyes narrowing at once. He longed to just open his mind and connect with Backpack, but that was impossible, especially with Brainiac so close. "Tell me." He sensed rather than saw Virgil join them. Why Virgil was up at four in the morning, Richie had no idea, but he was glad to have Virgil there, just the same. He reached up and took Virgil's hand, his eyes focused on Backpack still.

"There is a large concentration of humans near their house, and none of them match the biosignatures of the community's residents."

Richie's hand tightened on Virgil's. "Then we have to go check it out. We won't be confronting Brainiac until about nine this morning; there's plenty of time." As he stood, reaching out with his free hand for the hidden place where his costume was stored, he added, "And maybe we should bring them here, just in case. I want everyone we love under one roof."

Virgil released Richie's hand and tiptoed into his own room, returning with his costume hidden under his shirt. He locked the door behind him and checked to make sure the blinds were closed. Then he and Richie dressed. "Rich, maybe we should take Pops and Sharon there. Or, better yet, maybe we should call Bernadette and John, just to check. Just because there are unidentified humans hanging around doesn't mean-"

Richie, his face hidden behind his faceplate, asked, "Do you honestly believe that?"

It was an echo from a few days ago when Virgil had suggested they would be happy as civilians. Just like the last time Virgil had heard it, he was forced to rethink his words.

Richie didn't wait for him to say anything. "Besides, what about the premonitions you've been getting? You said yourself, last night, that they seemed to deal with both Brainiac and with something else you couldn't name." Richie turned towards the window. "Are we ready?"

Virgil nodded. "We're on our way." But before Richie could open the window, Virgil laid a hand on his shoulder. "Promise me we're sticking together this time. And promise me we'll contact the Justice League if anything goes wrong before we get back to Dakota."

Richie gazed at him, then raised his faceplate. His lips brushed against Virgil's own. "I promise, Virg."

Virgil nodded as Richie lowered his faceplate again. "I love you, Richie."

"If we don't live through this, remember I love you."

"We'll live through it." But Virgil remembered the frightening idea he'd had, that Hotstreak's death (it had to be death, now; he'd been missing for three days) was only the first of many. And, for the first time, he considered the possibility that either he or Richie would be counted among the dead. Shivering, he hugged Richie against him. "Just please be careful."

"Back atcha, V." Richie tried to smile and failed. He seemed on the verge of tears. Maybe he was thinking about Hotstreak.

Virgil squeezed Richie's shoulder, distracting him. "Come on; let's go."

oOo

He'd been sprinting towards Virgil's house, praying the two would still be there, despite his fears. But he'd taken the shortcut through Richie's old neighborhood, and so he was in the perfect place to see the lights on in Richie's old house. Blinking, distracted, Fiyero jogged across the lawn and crept around the side of the house, looking for a clue as to who was home. Had Richie's mother been released from the hospital?

At last, he came to the kitchen window and found it unshuttered. Pulling himself up to the windowsill, he peered inside. His arms trembled and he shuddered with hunger and exhaustion. Still, Fiyero knew his adrenaline would carry him for as long as it had to. He'd find a time to eat. Later. Right now…

Sean Foley was standing about, talking to five or six other men. All of them were dressed in fanatics' robe. Even as Fiyero watched, his eyes narrowing, Foley drew out a gun and gazed at it. His eye sparkled and he put the gun away again, saying something to the others gathered there.

_Ten to one, that gun's meant for Virgil. _Fiyero dropped to the ground. _Now I have to- _But he stopped, harkening to the sound of the engines starting in front of the house. _And they're going now! _He knew that even if Virgil and Richie weren't home, Foley might kill Virgil's father and sister. _I won't let that happen. I'll make sure they stay safe, then I'll try to find Virgil and Richie. _He slipped from shadow to shadow, making his way to the front of the house. There he saw the various cars being filled. There had to be thirty or so KKK members.

The front door opened and a tall man strode out. He ordered everyone to arrive at the target from different directions, but not to approach until he arrived. Then he made his way to a large station wagon close to the house.

_That's where I have to be. _Fiyero wasn't sure how he could slip onboard, but he knew he had to. _Not too sure I can hold onto the roof._ He groaned. _Why is this so much easier in the movies?_

One by one, the cars pulled out, turning different ways, When all of them were gone, the tall man turned and went back into the house.

Fiyero's grin showed his teeth. He looked almost feral in the light of the nearby streetlamp as he streaked across the intervening space and dove into the front seat of the station wagon. After darting a glance at the house, he crawled to the back and lay flat, praying they wouldn't store anything there. Then he saw that things had already been placed there, and relaxed. Carefully folded in one corner were several sets of respectable clothes: khaki pants, polo shirts, socks, underwear, a black suit and tie, new, white sneakers, dress shoes, a white robe. Fiyero frowned at these, then turned his eyes to other things. A duffle bag contained a toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, a razor, shampoo, soap. The next bag held a Bible, paper, pens, a book of devotions, another of prayers and a third of songs. _Hymns._ He was tempted to look at the songs more closely, wondering what sort of songs the KKK might sing, but something else caught his eyes. Fiyero made sure he was still unobserved, then he opened first the devotional, then the Bible. On the first page of each was this legend: Given to my son, Richard Osgood Foley, in the Name of God, on this, the 11th day of January in the year of our Lord 2004. May he grow in the understanding of God and the knowledge of Christ's forgiveness. Amen.

Fiyero wished suddenly for flame to surround him, not so he could destroy what was before him, but so he could ward off the chill. He sat stock-still, unable to think. Then he heard the sound of the front door opening and quickly put the books back. He lay as close to the back seat as possible. He drew up the collar on his new coat and hoped he wouldn't have to fall back on his story that he was a hobo just trying to sleep and the car had been empty. It was cold enough outside for that to be believed. _Let's just hope they don't' find me. I don't have another way to follow them._

The doors in the front opened and closed as the car settled with the new weight. Fiyero didn't allow himself to relax yet. He kept himself perfectly still, even as the engine started and the car backed out of the driveway. Lying still as death, he hoped to hear something of the plan the leader and Sean had cooked up.

But all he heard was the rasp of the radio as it was turned to a Christian station and played softly in the background. If either man intended to talk, they were taking their sweet time. At last, Fiyero decided that the two didn't' need to talk; they knew all they were going to do. _I was just thinking this is like a movie, so they have to say their plan so I can hear it. _He smiled. _Was it like this for Virgil and Richie when they first became superheroes? Did they do a lot of spying before they figured out that they might never hear what they wanted? Nah. They're too smart for that. They probably did what I'm doing; they spied on one person, realized they weren't going to learn anything anytime soon, and moved on._

A few minutes later, he thought, _Damn, this is taking forever. Where could they possibly be going? They aren't going back to wherever they came from out of town, are they? _The urge to sit up and see where he was drew at Fiyero, and not being a very patient person, he at last gave in. Gingerly, he drew himself up, trying to stay out of the line of sight of the rearview mirror. He peeked quick, then sank back down, again going absolute still. _I know this neighborhood. We're close to where Richie foster parents live. _He balled his hands into fists. _Well, joke's on you two: Richie isn't here. And I'll find a way to stop you from killing Bernadette and John. You can count on that. _His feral smile returned. _Sometimes, it pays to have very few values. I would kill all of you just to save two people. So I suggest you freak and run when you see me. If only I still had my powers… Well, I'll just have to make due with what I have, right? I fought before I had my powers and I can fight again. That's the big difference between Ebon and me; I know how to make due._

His mind strayed to Ebon, wondering if the Shadow would find any more gas. _If so, he'll sniff it quick and not draw out the moment, like last time. I can't worry about him right now. All in good time._

The station wagon stopped and the doors opened. Fiyero peeked out and saw the darkened house where John and Bernadette lived. The rest of the KKK members had abandoned their cars in other places so only the station wagon and the Corbett's car inhabited the driveway. Sean and the leader joined with the other KKK members who were waiting on the sidewalk, staring up at the house.

_They have no idea what's coming, _Fiyero thought, his eyes also trained on the small Cape Cod. _I've got to warn them. _He watched the leader gesture for everyone to get behind the station wagon and the Corbett's car so they couldn't be seen. _Great. Well, do I risk being seen before I want to be seen?_ As the man strode towards the front door, Fiyero decided that was a yes. He slithered over the back seat and pushed the passenger-side door open. Leaping out into the night, he yelled as loud as he could: "John! Bernadette! Run! It's the KKK! Run!"

The trap was sprung. Too early for most. Those sheltered behind the two vehicles poured out and tried to catch Fiyero between them. Laughing, Fiyero leapt away from them and darted around the side of the house. A bullet raced by his ear, but that was the only one fired. Then he was safely hidden and he began to look for a way to get into the house. Glancing up, he was surprised to see that all the lights were still off. He sprinted around to the back of the house, and wondered why no one was following him. What had their leader told them? Didn't they want to catch him before he could help John and Bernadette escape? Had the leader, or maybe Foley, noticed that he hadn't shouted to Richie? Were they even now taking to their heels, defeated?

He stared up at the darkened windows in the back of the house and called up, not caring if the KKK heard him, so long as John or Bernadette did, "You need to get out of there! Sean Foley's not playing! Come out and I'll help you escape!" He glanced towards the woods. "We can hide. Just come out."

Silence answered him and Fiyero prayed that the two weren't somehow still asleep. _But they aren't superheroes, and they haven't lived their lives on the streets. They probably have no instincts to speak of. _He cupped his hands around his mouth, ready to shout again.

A rustling behind Fiyero drew his attention and he spun about, fists raised. "Who's-"

"Come in here. Quick!"

It was John's voice, or so Fiyero guessed. After glancing around to make sure he wasn't being watched, he made for the shelter of the trees. He didn't know his way through them, and so he kept stumbling and making an awful racket until a hand closed on his arm and guided him. He went willingly, hoping everything would be explained soon.

"Lift your feet or you'll trip," whispered Bernadette. A minute or so later, she put his hands on the rungs of a wooden ladder built right into a tree. "Climb."

He did, hearing her behind him. He went all the up, coming out on a platform he could barely see. He was drawn forward by John and urged to sit. He listened to Bernadette settle herself. Unsure of what to say, he waited in the darkness, frustrated that his eyes weren't adjusting. _Guess I haven't spent enough time outside the city._

"Who are you?" John asked at last.

"Are you Hotstreak?" Bernadette grasped his arm. "You are, aren't you?"

"Yes. Where are Virgil and Richie?" _Yup, you've never lived in danger. You'd make a terrible spy._

"They're at Virgil's house."

"Wait a minute." John sounded unsure. "How can we know you're really Hotstreak?"

"I don't any proof, except I'm the one who sent Richie the phoenix statute. I love them both and I want to protect them. Please believe me."

"All right." John sighed. "What do you need to know?"

"Have they gone off to fight Brainiac yet?"

"No; Richie's…" Bernadette laughed uneasily. "Listen to me, trying to pretend I know what he's going to do." She shivered; her hands rasped against her sweater as she rubbed her palms up and down her arms.

Fiyero relaxed slightly. "So they really are at Virgil's house still."

"Yes, as far as we know. We talked to Richie just last night. This night." John sighed again. "Why are you here?"

"I was looking for Richie and Virgil and ran into the Klan first. I followed them here." Fiyero shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to be away, finding a ride back to Dakota. If Richie and Virgil hadn't been fighting Brainiac, why hadn't they come to look for him? The doubts Ebon had planted resurfaced. Shoving these aside, he said, "You didn't sound surprised to see me."

"Dette's an eternal optimist," John said. He coughed. "Richie and Virgil are sure you're dead. Dette and I tried to play grief counselor for Richie especially. The only thing that's keeping him going is the fact that Brainiac could destroy the world. He wants to protect us and Virgil's father and sister, if he can. But he's called us every night for three nights, looking for comfort. He takes some comfort in the Bible, but he… Well, this is Richie's first death. He's holding together so he can fight, but that's the only reason."

Fiyero closed his eyes and silently called himself a self-centered son of a bitch. "I have to tell him I'm all right, then." He made as if to stand.

Bernadette caught his arm. "Wait, Hotstreak. I wanted to ask-"

"My name's Fiyero. Richie gave it to me on Christmas Eve." But he sat back down. "What is it?"

"Is Sean Foley out there?"

"Yes."

"He's looking for Richie."

"More, I think, but I can't be sure. I think he wants to kill Virgil. But the back of his station wagon's loaded with clothes and stuff for Richie. I think he wants to kidnap Richie and take him somewhere. But since Richie isn't here, everything's-"

Beyond the woods, the little Cape Cod went up in a ball of flame.

Bernadette cried out, then clapped a hand over her mouth. John drew her close and kissed her hair. His eyes caught the light of the flames as he stared at their house, unable to look away.

Fiyero was on his feet at once. "Looks like they wanted to make sure you're not in there." He made for the edge of the platform. "Stay here. I'm going to check and see if they're going now." He glanced back at them, noticing how they held hands like children lost in a forest. "I'll be back. Don't move." He slipped down the ladder and began to creep towards the fringe of the forest.

oOo

The bright, unhealthy glow of fire led them. Picking up speed, Richie flew across the sky, leaving Virgil struggling to catch up. But even as Virgil opened his mouth to tell his partner to slow down, Richie stopped abruptly and hung in midair, gasping. Virgil almost ran into him.

"Richie? What is it?"

"It's their house, V." Richie's voice was scarcely above a whisper. "Backpack says they aren't inside, but what if they've run out to meet their fate and-"

Virgil caught Richie's shoulders in his hands and bore down gently. "Rich, listen to yourself. We'll see when we get there. Don't live the horrors before you know if they're true." _My Richie would have never done this- my Richie as he was before Hotstreak died. _Virgil made sure Richie was looking directly at him before he spoke again. "Listen to me. Don't panic until there's something to panic about."

Richie's hands were shaking. "He's shot them. I know it. I can see it-"

"We're three blocks away!" Virgil shook Richie, then drew him onto the saucer, almost crushing the blonde with his need to make Richie calm down. "Stop this, Rich. You can't know what's happened until we see for ourselves."

After a moment, Richie swallowed. "I… I know." Groaning, he pushed back from Virgil so he was flying on his own again. His face was set. "I'll be all right. Let's get over there."

Virgil caught Richie's arm before his lover could fly away. "Stay close to me. You hear me? That's an order."

Richie's mouth tightened down, but then he sighed. "I promise." He stayed at Virgil's side as they soared over the last few housetops. "I wish I could lower my shields," he whispered so quietly not even Backpack heard him.

The fire was worse than Virgil had expected, but no worse than Richie had expected, having received information from his instruments. It seemed like a sick joke to Richie that he could rely on every invention he possessed except Backpack, the one he trusted most. _But it actually makes sense, when you think about it. Why not fly into something new half-blind? It's not like I can really think through anything. I'm half-crazy; why not half-blind? _Again, he wished for Backpack in his mind, and he also wished for Virgil's voice to touch his thoughts. And, once again, he turned his thoughts to the horror before him, sparing a moment to remind himself of these facts: _Virgil is still here. Backpack is still here. As soon as we make sure my parents are safe- _a vision of Bernadette and John dying under Sean Foley's gun flashed across his mind, but Richie shoved it away- _we're off to kill Brainiac. After he's dead, I can collapse. Not before._

Two dozen KKK members were visible milling about the front of the house, too stupid to realize the police would have probably been called. They seemed to be glorying in a resurgence of their power.

Virgil and Richie swept down upon them. Together, they rounded up and contained every man and woman. Virgil stuck many to the cars in the driveway and Richie bound them with metal coils. There was no hope to containing the fire themselves, so Richie contacted the fire department.

But there was no sign of Bernadette, John… or Richie's father.

_Shouldn't he be here? _Richie wondered. _Why isn't he here? Everything says he should be! Did he stay hidden and just send these to do his dirty work? _Richie's eyes behind his faceplate flashed with blue lightning. _Why didn't you show up? At least then I could have known you were behind bars, hard as it would have been for me to capture you myself. V would have done it and-_

"Static! Gear! Down here!"

Both superheroes looked and saw the miracle standing a little distance from the burning house, though still on the Corbett's property. He was wearing different clothes than either teen had ever seen, but that didn't matter: his red hair with its streaks of bright yellow and his welcoming smile were unmistakable.

Faster than he would have thought possible, Richie dropped to the ground, only pulling up at the last instant to prevent a nasty fall and maybe a broken leg. He sensed Virgil beside him and reached out with one hand for his lover even as he settled on the grass and reached up to touch his other lover's face. Richie watched his fingers tremble in midair for a moment before they rested against the beautiful skin before him. But Richie couldn't feel the skin he so longed to touch. Yanking off his glove with his teeth (he still clung to Virgil's hand, rooting himself in reality) he reached up again. This time, when he touched his loved one's face, a calloused hand closed over his own.

Richie's lips parted, but before he could speak, Hotstreak moved forward and drew both Richie and Virgil against him. "My name's Fiyero now," he whispered. Then he groaned as two sets of arms wound themselves about him and effectively tried to crush the breath out of him. He returned the embrace and drank in the smell of Richie's hair and Virgil's faint cologne. "Oh God… Oh God, I didn't think you'd take me back. I thought you didn't want to look for me… I thought you gave up on me."

Richie opened his faceplate and began raining kissed along Fiyero's jaw. "We thought you were dead… We looked… Three days…" He sobbed and clung to the taller teen all the more desperately.

"We looked," Virgil said. He, too, was kissing Fiyero, though more slowly. "Where have you been? Are you all right?"

Fiyero kissed each of them, then drew back. He was still holding their hands. He let go of Richie for a moment and closed the superhero's faceplate. "We can do this later. John and Bernadette are in the woods and they're-" His eyes traveled to the captured KKK members. He seemed to be doing a head count. "Sean Foley and the leader of this cheerful bonfire aren't here. Did you see them?"

Richie shook his head and pulled back from Hotstreak to free a Zap Cap. "Let's get to Bernadette and John. We'll airlift them out of here."

"Or you would if you could." Six men marched around the corner of the blazing house. The tall man Fiyero had seen before led them, and Sean Foley strode at his side. The other four had laid hands on John and Bernadette and were approaching, their faces hidden by their hoods. For some reason, the leader and Sean saw no need to hide themselves.

Richie's expression changed at once. "Release them and we'll et you live." Another Zap Cap found its way into his hand and he smiled. "Trust me; you don't want to face us right now."

"Where's my son, Whore?" Sean Foley's eyes were lit from within and his hand strayed to the gun at his belt.

Richie laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He cocked his arm back. "Last chance, you racist bastard."

Virgil charged up his hands and moved to float beside Richie. "Put your hands up, Foley. All of you. They're not to be touched."

"Where's me son you fucking faggot?" Sean drew the gun so fast he should have been able to get off a shot. Except the Zap Cap blinded him in a flash of light. He groaned and dropped to his knees, rubbing his eyes and gasping.

The rest of the KKK moved forward as if to shield him, dragging John and Bernadette closer.

"Go home, little children," Eustace said, holding up an empty hand in benediction. "Go in peace. This doesn't concern you anymore."

"Like hell it-" Virgil began.

Another Zap Cap hit Eustace and he tumbled forward into the grass, metal coils wrapping about him from neck to ankles. "Let them go before I carry your leader up twenty stories and drop him," Richie said, taking a step.

Fiyero reached out. "Gear, wait/" _You can't mean that! I thought Gear went to merge with Brainiac! But if he did, then this is really Richie speaking. _Fiyero's stomach turned. _Please don't let it be Richie._

The KKK members seemed to be consulting. Their hoods moved as they glanced at each other, trying to decide. At last, the two holding John let go. The other two followed suit.

Some of the all-consuming rage left Richie's voice, though the steel of his voice wasn't tempered at all. "Now get out of here. Leave the rest to us and-"

A gunshot, sounding far-off, sounded then, and one of the men staggered forward and fell. John turned instinctively and caught him.

"John, no!" Richie wrenched the Zap Caps from his belt.

Sean Foley shot John twice: once in the knee and once in the chest. Then he shot Bernadette three times: once in the abdomen, once in her left breast, once in the head. The couple fell with scarcely a sound.

The Zap Caps hit Sean Foley in the chest: one of water, one of electricity. Two more followed: same combination. And a third pair. Sean screamed and jittered and was thrown off his feet. He lay, twitching, in the grass.

Richie stalked over to his father and ripped off his helmet. "Go to Hell," he said.

"Ri----Ri-----"

Richie dropped another electrifying Zap Cap and danced back a step as Sean's leg snapped towards him. "Go to Hell." He spat at his father, then put his helmet back on. Turning away, he activated his Shock Vox and in a perfectly calm voice called an ambulance. "For two," he said after giving the address. And when he'd shut off the Vox, "Where are the fucking fire engines?"

Richie didn't watch the four free KKK members take to their heels.

Stumbling, he tried to move towards his parents. But he kept falling back a step every time he managed to make his legs work. Only then did Fiyero and Virgil see that Richie wasn't crying. His face was dark behind the tinted plate, his hands shook, but no tears fell.

"Richie-" Backpack began.

"Shut up. You don't want Brainiac to hear you, do you?" He tried again to reach his parents. He was closer now, but he couldn't seem to take the final steps.

Virgil approached, touching Richie's arm. Richie didn't seem to feel it or to notice him. He seemed similarly oblivious to Fiyero's touch on his shoulder a moment later. He had eyes and thoughts for only the man and woman that lay before him, their blood spreading around them, mingling. "I love you." Richie at last knelt between them, his pants becoming instantly soaked. He took John's hand in his right and Bernadette's hand on his left. "I love you. I love you."

Bernadette moaned and her fingernails dug into Richie's palm. Then she was still. John didn't move or speak.

Richie stayed with his parents until the ambulances came. Three had been sent instead of two, and Richie didn't ask why this was so. He gave up his parents as the paramedics moved in. Staggering back, Richie collapsed against Virgil and Fiyero, who held him up, wrapping their arms around him.

Richie took no notice of his lovers, even then.

oOo

Gear had been monitoring the police bands, so he heard all about the KKK attack on Richie's foster parents. _Well, that will make Richie seem weaker to Brainiac, which would definitely work in our favor. _He sighed. _Unless he really is weaker, of course. And now I don't know if he'll come here immediately or what will happen._

Shaking his head (all of these were mental movements, but they felt real) Gear added, _It may not be a question of weakness. He might be so furious that he can't think straight._

"Gear."

At once, Gear appeared before Brainiac. "I've heard interesting news," he said.

"Yes. Richie Foley has lost his foster parents. He is one that I would like to absorb. His knowledge is invaluable. Of course, I don't wish to waste time assimilating all of humanity, but a few specimens won't slow me down considerably. Who else would you recommend?"

"Superman, if you could get him," Gear said at once.

"But he is not human. And I already know everything about him. He is just like all the others that died on Krypton."

"Growing up on Earth changed him. He's different. At least consider him."

"So be it. Others?"

"Batman. He is said to have the best deductive mind on Earth." Gear smiled. "And, if you can, Wonder Woman. She is a completely unique woman. Most women are dependent on men; such is not her fate."

"I will consider her. Are there others?"

"That depends on what fascinates you. Personally, if I was you, I wouldn't want any children or most of the members of the general populace. They're dimwitted and lost, for the most part. The Justice League isn't just the Justice League because they have superpowers. They're the best and the brightest, for the most part. The Teen Titans aren't worth it; neither is Flash or Green Lantern. But those I mentioned… Now, those should whet your appetite for knowledge."

"And so you recommend Richie for the same reason?"

"Yes, but you need to be careful. Only take Richie if you can be sure he and I won't mix. We're… volatile… when together. It's nothing you can control; it's completely chemical, like that which causes dreams." _Okay, I've done everything I can to protect Richie. The rest is up to him._

_And why are you protecting him?_

_Fuck off… Great. Please don't tell me I'm talking to myself. What a sign of lower-level intelligence. _Except it wasn't; it was just embarrassing.

"Do you understand the dream process yet so that you can separate yourself from your body?"

"I'm almost there. One more link has eluded me until now. But I think I've got it at last. I'll run another test or two, then I'll be ready to drop off my human remains."

"Excellent. I want you completely fused to me when it is time to fight for our knowledge."

"I'll be ready. I can't wait to travel with you through the galaxy."

"I never thought I would need another with me, and I do not really need you, but I…" Brainiac seemed unable to explain.

"I enjoy your company, too," Gear answered. "You're made completely of purpose. I respect that."

It felt good to say one thing that was nothing more than unblemished truth.

oOo

"…We can only speculate that Gear must have known this unfortunate couple. Neither he, Static, nor the man formerly known as Hotstreak have agreed to comment. This is Shelly Sandoval with Channel Three News."

Sharon jabbed at the power button on the remote control almost hard enough to break it. "Richie's Gear!" she almost screamed at her father. "Isn't he, Daddy?" Then she gasped and clutched at his arm, letting the remote fall. "And Virgil… He's Static! I knew it! I suspected it last year, all but believed it until he tricked me!" her nails were digging into her father's arm. "Isn't it true? _Are_ they Static and Gear? _Are_ they?"

Robert disengaged his arm from his daughter's hold. "Yes. We wanted to tell you, but you were so upset about the run around the insurance company was giving you. And…" He sighed. "And then I forgot." He took her hands in his. "Sharon, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I forgot. I'm sorry."

"How could you forget!" She jumped to her feet, then collapsed back on the couch. "That's why Richie was so out of it when Dr. Todd announce his cure and why Virgil was so…" She moaned and put her head in her hands.

"Sharon-"

"Even then you didn't tell me!" She glared at her father. "I could have helped! Maybe…" She was on her feet again, pacing now. "They need us. We have to get to the hospital and-"

The phone rang and Sharon screamed, her hands going to the sides of her head.

Robert started to make for the phone, laying a hand briefly on her shoulder. But Sharon beat him to it, leaving him to grab the phone in the kitchen. "Hello?" Sharon demanded. "Who is this?"

"Sharon, it's… it's me. I need to tell you-"

"I know. You're Static. I know."

There was a brief silence, then Virgil said, "Well, yeah. Look, John and Bernadette are still alive. They're in Dakota Memorial Hospital. Can you stay here for them? Gear and I have to go fight someone. It's very important."

"Virgil, who are you-?" Robert began.

"I can't say. But we won't be alone. The Justice League will be with us. It's very important. Will you come? It means the world, literally." He swallowed. "Sean Foley's still alive, too. R-Gear… almost killed him. I've never seen him like this before. I need to go help him. Fiyero's helping a little, keeping him calm for now, but I-"

"Who's Fiyero?" Sharon and Robert asked together.

"Hotstreak. I'll explain later. God, I wish I'd explained everything to you sooner…" He cleared his throat. "I have to go. Will you come?"

"We're on our way," Robert answered. "Do what you need to do, Superhero."

"Thanks, Pops."

"Be careful," Sharon said.

"I will. I promise. We'll be back. Just… stay at the hospital, okay? Don't go driving around. Things are happening…" The muffled sound of Virgil talking to someone, then he came back on the line. "I have to go." He hung up.

Sharon placed the receiver back in the cradle. Closing her eyes, she put her hands against the wall and just leaned there for a moment as shivers ran through her body. She wasn't crying, but her trembling was frightening in its intensity. When her father wrapped his arms around her from behind, she turned so she could hug him convulsively. They stood that way for a minute, then Sharon pulled back. "We have to get to he hospital." Her eyes were still dry. "But first, do you know what they're going to fight?"

"No. They haven't said anything to me. But if the Justice League's involved…"

"Why do Virgil and Richie have to fight? Why can't they just rest and stay with Bernadette and John? Why do they have to fight? From what Virgil said, Richie's already lost it once. What if he…" She shook her head. "Never mind. We have to go."

"Not yet." Robert put his hands on both of his daughter's shoulders. "Listen to me, Sharon. Richie and Virgil will get through this, whatever it is. They've been fighting for a while now. They're good at it." He realized he was just repeating the persuasive words Virgil and Richie had used on him, and forced himself to stop. "There's nothing we can do unless they ask. As much as we want to keep them safe, they're needed. They were given their powers. And since we don't have either the powers or the experience, we have to wait. It's the hardest job in the world, but we have to do it. They need us to stay with John and Bernadette, so that's what we'll do."

Sharon sighed. "But, Daddy… _Hotstreak_?"

"I'll explain on the way to the hospital."


	23. Final Days P2 Diary

**Author's Note:** This is the **FINAL** chapter!

**Warning:** Disturbing Imagery: non-sexual

Chapter Six: Final Days, Part Two

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (8)

Book IV

Ovid John

Chapter Six: Final Days, Part Two

Richie didn't even want to wait. That was the biggest problem. He sat in the waiting room chair, ramrod straight, and ignored Fiyero's hand on his leg. He stared straight ahead and scarcely even seemed to breathe. Other patients who might have normally been fascinated by him, and by the phenomenon of Static using a pay phone, and Hotstreak, a former terror, sitting beside Gear, kept their eyes down or trained on the quietly-playing television. They all felt that something in Gear's posture prompted them to pretend they were elsewhere, or at least that the superhero wasn't in the waiting room with them. And, just in case, the caution they exercised towards Gear carried to the others.

Only one child tried to watch, and she was urged in a whisper not to stare; it wasn't polite. The little girl stole peeks at Gear especially; she was four-almost-five and possessed of a pervasive curiosity. She liked watching both Static and Gear on television, but Gear was nearer to her; she could study him better. Static was hidden, because of her place on the floor, by her father's knee.

At last, her father tired of her peeks and picked her up. " 'Detta, stop it," he whispered. "Let the superhero alone."

Fiyero glanced at the man, wondering if he understood how much attention he was drawing to himself. It was much worse than when the little girl just stared.

Richie stood suddenly and approached the father and daughter. The man looked a little nervous (Fiyero didn't blame him) but 'Detta tried to reach out for him.

Richie touched her small hand with his gloved fingers. "Hi," he said softly. "What's your name?"

Very politely, demurely, she said, "Odetta Carver." She grinned, and her voice lost its quiet attitude. "Hi, Gear! Why are you in the hospital?"

"Two friends of mine have been hurt."

"My mama's having my little sister," Odetta said.

Richie squeezed her hand lightly. "That's good news. Are you ready to be a big sister?"

Fiyero slipped out of his seat and rushed across to where Virgil was still talking on the phone. Tapping Virgil's shoulder, he whispered, "Look!"

Virgil turned his head. "What is-?" Then he stopped, smiling. Quickly, he said good-bye to his family and hung up. Then he and Fiyero just stood there, watching the miracle of Richie back in the world with them.

Odetta was saying, "…care of Lily Anne. That's my sister's name."

"I like it." Richie stood. "I have to go now. Thank you for talking with me."

Odetta wriggled out of her father's weakened grasp and jumped to the floor, holding up her arms.

Richie gazed at her for a moment, then picked her up. He let her touch his helmet, his faceplate, Backpack's arm. Then he hugged her gently before setting her down. "Thank you, Odetta. I'll look out for you in the doctor journals in twenty years or so."

Fiyero and Virgil hurried to catch up with Richie as he started out of the emergency room doors. He went with a slightly bowed head, and his hands were clasped before him as he walked. When the three of them were all outside, Richie turned to the two he loved. "I'll be okay for a little longer," he said. "And… Who called the ambulance for my dad?"

"Guilty as charged," Virgil answered.

Richie smiled and grasped Virgil's hand. "Thank you." Then he squared his shoulders. "Let's go. We were supposed to be approaching Brainiac's location half an hour ago."

They were walking again, but Fiyero put his hand on Richie's shoulder, squeezing lightly until the blonde looked around at him without slowing his pace. "Did you-?" Fiyero cursed his weak tongue and his beleaguered brain. "Richie, tell me…" He shot Virgil a pleading look, but Virgil stared mutely back, unable to offer any help. "I mean, the Zap Caps-" He shook his head violently. "Please tell me that was Gear who tried to kill your father. Please tell me that was him."

"Gear's with Brainiac." Richie reached up and touched Fiyero's hand on his shoulder. "I did it. I sinned. I… committed patricide. Because I know he's as good as dead. I can feel it. I saw the fire start; I knew John and Bernadette…" He swallowed. "Anyway, I know he's dead, or will be soon. I've seen it already.

"And I hate it." His voice was getting quieter and quieter. "I hate that I meant to kill him. I hate that I lost myself enough to his teachings to exact revenge when God… when God could have changed him, made him a better person, maybe healed him completely so we could be a family again." Richie's voice broke. "But now I stole that chance from him."

"Don't think of it like that," Virgil said, walking faster so he could walk in front of Richie, facing him. "God decides when each of us dies, right? He knows when each of us dies, right? He knows our lives before we live them. So He saw this coming. So He must have planed it."

Richie stopped so suddenly Fiyero's right foot caught on Richie's heel and both of them staggered forward a step. "Just because God knows what's going to happen doesn't mean He caused it!" Richie screamed. He shrugged off Fiyero's hand and stood toe to toe with Virgil, still screaming. "That's like saying God causes floods and earthquakes today just like He did the Old Testament! It's different now! We're living in the Age of Grace! We're each of us responsible for following Christ; no one can make that decision for us! And I just took away my dad's final chance to get right with God! So don't fucking tell me God caused me to kill my father!" He stood, gasping, glaring at Virgil, and then something inside him seemed to crack.

Richie took a step back and looked away from Virgil. "I can't do this," he whispered. "I can't do this. I can't face God with this much blood on my hands. I can't fight Brainiac with only half my sanity." He laughed brokenly. "But if I don't, I damn the whole world. What the hell do I do, God? What the hell do you want me to do?" Lifting his eyes to the sky, Richie screamed, "What now? You said you'd help me! Where are you?"

_Open the links._

Richie opened his mouth to tell both Backpack and Virgil- whichever one had sent the message- to just… _They can't connect to me. My shields are too strong. They can't connect to me. _Richie shuddered and hugged himself. _Please, God, I can't go insane. Please._

_Stop, Richie. I Am here for you._

His reaction was slow, slower than it had been in Ebon's room, even, but Richie's mind began to catch up with what his heart was trying to tell him. He dropped his shields and flung out his sorrow into the void. His mind argued that it couldn't work, that Virgil and Backpack had their shields up.

They didn't. Almost at once, warm energy wrapped itself around Richie from both directions. Dimly, he felt Fiyero holding him up, supporting almost all his weight.

_Have hope for your father. I send help in many ways, Richie. You will not heal all at once, but for now cast your care on those you love, and on Me. Through them, I will carry you until you are ready to try a few steps while I walk beside you. I need you, Richie. I need you to save My people. Will you?_

…_Yes, God… Yes._

"_Richie?" _The three voices overlapped, coming from inside and outside his head.

"It's all right… I'm all right. God… Thank you, Jesus…" He smiled ruefully, thinking that he sounded like a Southern Baptist preacher. _Well, at least now I know where those words, that emotion, can come from. And somehow it doesn't sound as false now as it used to when I said it with everyone else. No offense to the Southern Baptists, but the KKK stole that phrase from them._ Richie straightened and turned so that he was facing both Virgil and Fiyero. His hand went to Backpack's arm. "Thank you. I love you."

Turning his eyes fully on Fiyero, Richie took one of the teen's hands in both of his. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I attacked him. I'm sorry I'm not what you expected, what you wanted. Please-"

Fiyero drew Richie against him. "Of course you're what I want. I didn't know you could be so angry, and I never want to see you in so much pain that you are tempted towards that anger, but of course I want you."

Richie turned his eyes to Virgil. Memories of shouting at his lover flitted across his face, marking it. "V…"

Moving closer, grasping Richie's hand as the blonde reached for him, Virgil said, "I love you, Richie. We'll work through all of this together. The three of us want you always, and won't ever give you up. Don't think we love you any less; you're human, Richie. We don't love you because you're super smart or because you're perfectly in control; we love you because you're our Richie." He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"After-school special," Backpack said, and the three of them laughed. Fiyero, looking slightly mystified, but willing to join in, grinned at the others.

Virgil was surprised to hear how different Backpack's laugh was from Richie's. Their voices were alike, but Backpack… his laugh was all his own. Grinning, Virgil slung an arm around Richie. Fiyero did the same thing on the other side. "Well, we're off to see the wizard." Virgil started to stride away, pulling the others with him. "The scary wizard named Brainiac! Because _because_ _because_ BECUZZZZZ-"

Fiyero reached over and slapped a hand over Virgil's mouth. "Let Richie do the singing, okay?"

Richie turned pink as a piece of strawberry shortcake; Fiyero and Virgil laughed again. "Okay, okay," said the blonde. "We have to get going. We're already late. I don't know how long Gear can stall Brainiac."

Virgil flipped out his saucer. "Hop on, Hothead."

Fiyero grimaced. "Only because I want to squeeze your ass." He glanced at Richie again, meaning to wink, but he was startled by Richie's expression. The blonde was blushing again, but he also had a rather knowing look in his eyes. Shaking his head, Fiyero joined Virgil on his saucer. "Let's get out of here."

oOo

Brainiac came awake in the body Gear had built. Its unconscious state had been brief, but it had been there. Gear had enjoyed that moment of complete silence. Now that he'd been with Brainiac for many days (the last few hours had been especially long) he realized he wouldn't give up everything to travel with Brainiac. _And it's not just the loss of a human body. It's… _Gear grinned. _He drives me crazy!_

It scared Gear to know how close he'd come to just going with Brainiac; abandon the plan, help Brainiac escape, talk the supercomputer out of destroying Earth, but just leaving Richie behind. For a moment, everything had taken a backseat to Gear's desire to travel with Brainiac, gathering information by whatever means necessary. And that included both Gear's need for a human body and his love for Virgil.

_I'm lucky I came back to myself at all. _The grin slipped from Gear's face as Brainiac came fully awake. The computer wasn't yet aware of the firewalls and Gear prayed it would stay that way. _Except Brainiac isn't the only one trapped by them. _He shivered, hiding his reaction from Brainiac as always. _I can't see how Richie will get me out of here alive._

Remembering the virus Richie had developed, the one that would sweep through Brainiac like a wind-driven fire through dry brush, Gear had to force himself not to feel sick. _Thrive on the danger until there's nothing else, _he thought. _I can't have Virgil; I never could. All I can do is make sure Richie remembers me. That's my only immortality. _Anguish rose inside him, but Gear snarled and vowed, _I'll face my death just like I've lived: on my terms. And my terms don't include fear._

"Gear, I am ready. When will the ship be ready?"

"In another two hours, sooner if you can help me." Against his will, Gear's thoughts turned to Richie. _Against my will? That sort of thing isn't supposed to happen. I'm supposed to be nothing _but _will. Isn't that why I'm so dangerous to Richie, Backpack, and the world at large? _

Richie's voice floated out of the void, and Gear couldn't repress it. He had time for one thought before Richie's remembered words temporarily overwhelmed him: _I'm going insane. That's what it has to be. And here I thought I was strong enough to face death with my mind intact._

Then the memory spoke. _You can't help caring about only two things in the whole world- a fact that I don't really believe, if you want to know the honest truth- I can't help worrying about you. But if you want me to keep it to myself, I'll try… A fact I don't really believe, if you want to know the honest truth… two things in the whole world… I can't help worrying about you… a fact I don't believe, if-_

_Shut up! _Gear screamed in his mind. _I only care about myself and Virgil! You don't matter to me, Richie! I hate you! I want to be away from you! I'll never trust you or like you, so how can I love you enough to care about you? You're the millstone around my neck, the cord I trip over in the dark! Who do you think you are, caring about me and telling me what I do and don't care about?_

"Gear, you seem distressed."

_Shit. I'm cracking. _"I'm all right; it's just that Richie is near-" _I hope he really is; no, I want him to stay away from here- _"and I want to make sure we don't mix."

"What exactly will happen if you are in close contact?'

"We'll both die." It was close enough to the truth to pass muster.

_None of this was in the original plan, of course, but that can't be helped now. I've done what needed to be done, what Richie couldn't do, even as he's set himself out as bait. That's Richie's failing; he can't sacrifice others for the good of the many; he can only sacrifice himself. And sometimes that just isn't the right thing to do. It's so highly praised in this stupid society, but it's the last thing that's needed right now. What the plan needs is the sacrifice of someone who was never supposed to be here in the first place._

_We'll both die. Close enough to the truth to be uncomfortable. I hope it's more than half-true… No, I don't. Virgil's going to need someone and Backpack's just not equal to Virgil's special needs. And since I could never comfort him…_

"Then I will keep you separated. I will keep you with me, protected, and I will absorb only Richie's knowledge, not his physical body."

_That'll be some trick with Backpack hidden away and Richie's shields up. _"When you have his intelligence, will you kill him?"

"Of course. What other purpose could he serve?"

"He would make excellent bait for the Justice League. Especially if he's half-mad after you've taken his mind from him. A weak, mind-blasted citizen is something the Justice League couldn't resist. They would almost surely charge in here without thinking, easy prey for you."

An alarm went off in the shared part of their mind. Brainiac turned to it, but Gear knew instinctively what it was. _Richie's coming. _Squaring his mental shoulders, refusing to die in fear and confusion, he thought, _Now it begins._

oOo

"Richie, allow me to say one more time that I dislike this plan intensely."

Richie smiled distractedly as he ripped his costume a little more. "I know, BP." He took the cracked helmet Fiyero handed him, reflecting that now he would be lucky to see Brainiac before he was attacked. The circuitry that took the place of his glasses had been cut and fused. _Well, that's part of the point, isn't it? _He smiled at Fiyero, then reached out and touched Backpack in Virgil's arms. Both Fiyero and Virgil had been unusually quiet, but Richie had no doubt that Backpack had eloquently expressed their thoughts. To all three of them, Richie said, "I love you. I'll see you on the other side of this." His smile became a little less distracted. "Have faith."

Green Lantern strode towards them, carrying the knife Richie had requested. "Hold still," he ordered the blonde. Richie saw Virgil wince an instant before the knife pierced the skin beneath Richie's eye, drawing forth a stream of blood. The knife moved and cut a gash into Richie's scalp. Head wounds bled best. GL stepped back, examining his handiwork. "There. Convincing enough." He grasped Richie's shoulder and made sure the blonde was looking at him. "You have half an hour. Then we're coming in."

Richie nodded, but stopped quickly because it made him feel dizzy.

"Just don't die, Rich," Virgil said, his voice strained. "I don't want to have to explain all this to Pops and Sharon."

"And you and my Aunt Sue need to still have a cook-off to find out who makes the better pumpkin stew." Fiyero touched the tips of his fingers to Richie's arm. Virgil, too, had reached out.

Richie smiled at them; one by one, he touched the three people he loved. Then he let his hand fall. Unable to think of anything to say, he stepped around Fiyero and started towards Brainiac's underground hiding place.

It wasn't easy going; he stumbled from time to time, and hoped he didn't end up falling and gashing his head even more. _Though I guess having a scrape or two on my hands wouldn't hurt. _He sighed. _Well, can't be helped now. Here's hoping Brainiac doesn't notice the incongruency of my injuries and my relatively pristine hands._

His mind went for a moment to those waiting for him to come back. Even if they were unconscious or dead, Richie thought of them as waiting. Even his father waited, and Richie was starting to think the man might still have a chance to be saved before he died, though it would be a near thing. _He'll make it into Heaven by the skin of his teeth. He'll have no rewards or trophies besides his own salvation to lay at Jesus' feet. But that's enough. If only he'll have that…_

_I love you, Bernadette, John. I'll see you again. I'll come out of this; you'll see. Virg and Fiyero and BP will see, too. Mr. H will never know everything I went through. _He saw the flight of stairs ahead and concentrated on finding the railing so he wouldn't slide all the way down. _Cuts are one thing; knocking myself unconscious won't help anything. _At the bottom, he gazed around at the close, dark walls. This was a back entrance into the hidden place where Omnara had hidden Virgil's father. Unlike the rest of the complex, it was dimly lit and narrow. _More than likely nothing more than an escape hatch. Well, and it might do when Gear and I are ready to leave. _He glanced up at the low ceiling and chuckled silently. _Virg would almost have to hit his head to fly here. Good thing they're all coming in the "main entrance." _It amused Richie that when the city sent workers to repair the hole Virgil had blasted in the street to escape Omnara, they hadn't seemed even the least bit curious when they found it already fixed. _Well, Virg will give them another chance to fix the hole. _He forced the smile from his lips, just in case he was being watched, and turned his mind forcibly to the sight of John and Bernadette lying, side by side, in the grass, as their life blood mingled. His heart shied from the image, but Richie felt the tears coming and held onto the memory.

Gear wasn't the only one determined to die as he had lived.

Tripping over a bit of ripped-up metal, Richie lurched into the large room where Omnara's computers were humming away. He almost fell, but caught himself in time. The tears were blurring his vision. Joining the memory of his foster parents were thoughts of losing those he loved in this dangerous venture. _I've done everything I can to protect them. _That thought held no comfort for him, and the tears came faster. They would be audible in his voice. Good.

A robotic arm wrapped itself around him, righting him, then dragging him across the room. Richie squinted, but didn't try too hard to see. He knew who had to be there.

"You are foolish, coming here alone."

Richie struggled against the arm. "I'm going to kill you right away, Brainiac. I'm going to use your weapons to kill the ones who killed my parents, then I'm going to kill you." He sobbed. "Even if you can never die, I'll give it my best shot."

"Your 'best shot' will have no effect on me."

"You'd be surprised." Richie allowed his voice to tremble.

"I have someone here you might want to talk with."

Richie laughed. "You have no one I want to hear. Everyone I love is safe."

"Or dead," Gear said, speaking through Brainiac, his voice hard and more human, more emotional, than Brainiac could ever manage. "And I don't care if you don't love me. The feeling's mutual."

Richie's eyes narrowed. "Traitor! You're working with Brainiac! You're going to betray the human race!"

"Well, since I'm not human, I figured that was fitting." Gear reached out with Brainiac's hand and brushed Richie's hand as he went through his pockets, looking for the Shock Vox Richie should have been carrying.

The concealed, quarter-inch long robot jumped from its place on Richie's hand to the top of the blonde's head with all the grace and precision of a flea. The little miracle of engineering had been constructed by Backpack and was connected directly to him. The connection had been difficult to create, and would be even harder to sever, especially since Backpack wouldn't be anywhere near his little invention. If he couldn't cut the connection, the micro-bot's destruction would be his own.

Brainiac/Gear (did Brainiac understand Gear could take over permanently almost at any time?) held up the Shock Vox. "Now Static will find you and I will kill him."

"He'll come armed, and with friends," Richie answered. "Don't be so sure you can defeat him."

Gear laughed; Brainiac's eyes were lit with it. "Yes, he has friends, but I know all about them. Every weakness, strength and soft spot is known to me, so it's known to Brainiac. You're defeated, _Richard_."

A simple baiting technique, one Richie would have never fallen for- except he was supposed to fall for it. "Don't call me that! Only Bernadette and John can-"

"Well, they're dead, aren't they? Don't you want to be reminded of them?"

Fresh tears shimmered on Richie's cheeks and he struggled anew, wanting to wipe them away. "They're alive in my heart!" _There, Gear, take that! It's the best invitation I can give for you to take the next step._

Gear drew Richie close, almost within kissing distance. The flea-sized robot leapt to Brainiac's head and entered through the access panel Gear had left open. The panel closed without a sound. "So touching. That's why you won't live through this, Richard; you're too soft."

Richie was crying so hard now he couldn't see Brainiac's face. Not much of a loss there. "Stop calling me that!" Richie struggled again, almost desperately enough to break an arm. A manic strength had flooded his limbs as he committed himself fully to the death he knew would probably come very soon. It hadn't been fifteen minutes yet, let alone the half hour Green Lantern and the others were going to wait.

Brainiac took over; the metal coils around Richie tightened. "Open your mind to me. You will build a link between your mind and mine. Then I will take your knowledge. Your death will be quick and painless if you agree to help me. If you refuse, I will torture you until you submit."

Richie dropped his outer shields at once, allowing not only Gear into his mind (Gear acting on Brainiac's orders) but Virgil, J'onn and Backpack. He prayed Virgil and Backpack still had their shields up, but knew he couldn't trust to that fact. Brainiac didn't sense the others, due to a planned oversight on Gear's part, but the others could sense Brainiac. Richie felt Virgil's anger ebb and flow as his lover attempted to keep himself in check. "Please don't kill me," Richie begged. "I can help you. Please, I don't want to die yet… Not like John and Bernadette…" He allowed the vision of his parents bleeding away their lives to consume him.

Gear punched a hole in the vision. "There will be time for you to grieve later. First, make the connection complete on your end. This will be quick." And, under the words, Gear sent this message, more feeling than thought: _You must live. Virgil needs you. Tell him I loved him._

Richie heard the message and stored it, allowing a few more tears to be drawn from him. Then he dropped the second to last shield, giving Brainiac what the computer thought it wanted: access.

One shield remained, and here Richie hid the plan, but he sacrificed everything else: his love for Virgil, Backpack and Fiyero; all of his memories of his father's abuse; his mother's insane cries. As his suffering was siphoned out of his mind along with his knowledge of much of the complicated technology on Earth, Richie felt the last shield tremble. He couldn't lose that last hold, at least not until Brainiac had been contained, but the shield was buckling too soon. Everything J'onn had taught Richie about fortifying his shields came into play, but it wasn't enough. A small crack formed.

Gear surged forward, leaping into Richie's mind as the blonde's knowledge was pulled in the other direction. Gear threw himself around that last shield, holding it in place, all the while telling Brainiac that Richie was holding out on them and that he, Gear, was going to bring down the last shield.

Richie shivered as he was treated to the full contents of Brainiac's mind in the exchange. He could feel what little control he had left slipping away. He couldn't even pretend to be helping Gear hold that last wall between sanity and insanity in place. Every sorrow he had suffered, every agonizing blow of his father's hand, and especially those things Richie himself had done wrong, attacked him from all directions. The memories were like ravenous wolves, maddened by rabies, just ripping at every bit of hot, bloody meat they could find.

And Brainiac's mind was worse. In the supercomputer's vast store of knowledge, Richie saw the trillions of murders the machine had committed in its endless search for knowledge. Slow death by radiation poisoning, instant deaths, panicked people, parents clinging to children, whole populations systematically wiped out. And even though he saw so much, each image was clear. Not all of them would stay with him, Richie knew, if he was allowed to live, but some could never be forgotten. A mother ran, carrying one live child and one dead, the second baby missing half its head. Brains and blood clotted in the mother's hair, and her living child, a little older than its sibling, screamed to be put down, for the mother to help Nila, help Nila, she must be cold, the wind was strong. _Mamna, Mamna, help Nila! She's hurt! She fell down! Mamna, her eyes are- _Then the wave of a blast akin to an atomic bomb swept over them and the mother died. The older sibling died last, succumbing to the next blast.Brainiac conducted experiments on some planets, before it decided that digitizing was enough; death was all the same to it.

_Richie! Stay with me! Stay with me, Richie! Don't give it to it! Don't-_

_You care for him. _Brainiac's voice in Richie's/Gear's mind was calm, implacable. Pain like a thousand knives, descended on both of the people in Richie's mind. Richie was protected somewhat by the shield Gear tried to build, but the shield _was _Gear.

Brainiac attacked ruthlessly; it attacked in vengeance and because it had been tricked, though it would have denied such feelings that it wasn't supposed to have. But the energy it threw at Richie/Gear was made of more than purpose, and both Richie and Gear sensed that. Brainiac had learned to hate.

Gear screamed as he was consumed by the fire of Brainiac's fury. _Throw the switch! _he ordered Richie. _Do it now! Even if the micro-bot isn't deep enough, I can't hold the firewalls, I can't destroy the pathways! Now, Richie!_

_I can't hear the robot anymore, Gear._ Richie's voice was calm, and he wrapped himself around Gear as much as he could, enduring the same pain, giving himself over to dying alongside what had once been half of his mind and was now a dying man. _I can't hear anything outside us. But if the virus has been released, we'll know soon enough._

_You were supposed to live and love Virgil! That was the plan! _Dark flames raced over Gear's "skin" and he screamed again, even as he tried to make himself understood.

_No. _Richie was still calm. Shock had damped his terror, horror, and all the rest. _The plan is to save the world if we can and bring Brainiac's death. _He was merging with Gear, forcing himself in among the burning remains that had once been a brilliant mind.

_Not- _Gear shoved Richie back, ripping them apart- _anymore!_

_Gear, wait! Gear, I can't leave you here!_ Fire like serpents' tongues and clawing fingers rose between them. An invisible wall forced them apart.

Richie's last shield crumbled and fell, and Brainiac surged into his mind, taking him by force, raping him in a more fundamental way than skin-to-skin.

That was when the virus swept through Brainiac/Richie/Gear, and Brainiac at last understood everything. The supercomputer tried to simultaneously pull out of Richie's mind so it could deal with the virus, and yet take Richie with it.

Gear flung himself at Brainiac, throwing up the final firewall around the two of them, pushing Richie out. A wordless cry issued from Gear's mind, made of triumph. _There! _Gear seemed to shout. _I told you you'd go back to Virgil! I told you!_

Then Gear was gone, Brainiac was gone, and Richie came back to himself. Memories of everything Brainiac had shown him were still swimming before his eyes, vying for position like squabbling crows. Beneath and among these visions was the knowledge that he was indeed alone in his mind, and that not one shield stood.

Creeping in, as if afraid to intrude, came his five senses reporting in. Smell was the first to reach him, and Richie realized the room around him was filling with smoke. He was starting to feel quite light-headed.

Then taste arrived, and Richie tasted his own vomit. Instinctively rolling over, he pulled himself out of the mess. But everything hurt; his body as well as his mind. He couldn't have moved again if he wanted to. And he wasn't really sure he wanted to try.

_Gear… _And, as the memory of the little robot releasing its virus just in time surfaced: _Backpack…_

The smell of burning metal was growing stronger. Richie coughed, but didn't feel the irritation in his throat. His eyes watered, but they sent him no images. The crackling of flames came to his ears, but soon a rending and tearing of metal overwhelmed that almost-homey sound. Richie tried to cover his ears and loosed a dry shriek at the pain that ran up and down his limbs, igniting in his elbows, shoulders and neck. The wish for unconsciousness flared in his mind and at once became a need.

_But Backpack, Gear; I have to know-_

"_Richie… Richie…"_

Something numbing touched Richie, though he wasn't sure where it touched. He welcomed the instant release from pain.

"_Richie, please answer me. Richie, we need you to wake up and say something. Just move, Richie, and we'll know you're awake."_

"Leave him alone. He needs to rest."

And that was where the tape of Richie's memory broke. Later it could be patched together, but he was never sure of anything that happened between the time he lost Backpack and Gear and when he at last woke up.

oOo

Brainiac was trying to escape its body. Gear made himself a dead weight and clung to Brainiac, slowing the supercomputer down as much as possible. He didn't have the strength for anything else. The firewalls were holding on their own, but that could change at any moment. _And there are still the other circuits to fry. Don't forget that. You still have to escape and-_

_But there's no way to escape. I'm too tired. _Gear turned his head and watched Richie fall away from them, disconnected at last, safe from Brainiac. _There goes my last chance to ask you to tell Virgil I loved him. _Gear sighed and gazed at the firewalls, seeing that they were still holding. _Now I just have to hope someone destroys all the computers out there in case I missed some small kernel of Brainiac's intelligence._

A door opened in a firewall, but Brainiac was preoccupied with burning Gear off him. Gear watched the small beacon slip in; the firewall closed behind it.

Backpack moved forward, reaching out. Gear read the intention in the pulsing of he little light. _Get out of here! Richie needs you!_

_I will bring you with me. _Backpack launched himself at Brainiac, trying to separate the two determined minds. Some of the fire Brainiac was using to attack Gear skittered over Backpack, making him cry out.

_Get out! I'm fine! Get out and protect Richie! He could have a Nervous Breakdown or something without you! Get out there and help him! _Gear opened the door in the firewall and shoved Backpack out. _And destroy the computers while you're out there!_

The door was closing. _But, Gear-_

_Tell Virgil I love him._

The door was almost closed. _But, Gear-_

Gear clamped down harder on Brainiac. His eyes bored into Backpack. _Tell Richie I cared for him, too._

The wall was whole once more. A silent implosion took place then, taking both Brainiac and Gear in a flash of light.

oOo

Virgil paced at night, when no one else was around. He was supposed to be home, in bed, but he'd told his father that Hell would freeze over before he stayed away from Richie any longer than he absolutely had to. His pops had accepted, though it had taken him a few hours to agree to let Virgil stay at the hospital at night, and even longer for him to convince the hospital's director that the best thing, for both Virgil and Richie, was to let Virgil sleep on a cot at Richie's bedside every night. During the day, he went to school, forcing himself to pay attention, forcing himself to answer endless questions about how Richie had fallen into a coma. Frieda and Daisy were especially persistent, insisting that the doctors had to know something, that the hundred-odd tests must have produced at least some _guesses_. Virgil couldn't explain that only J'onn had any idea why Richie had been unconscious for over a week. No one could know about J'onn because that would bring up too many questions.

_And considering the fact that J'onn only knows Richie's mentally, perhaps spiritually, exhausted, there's no reason to give them false hope, or to confuse them. I'm just not ready to tell them Richie's Gear and I'm Static. It's been hard enough explaining why Fiyero walks me to school every day and picks me up every afternoon for the walk to the hospital. _

"Virgil, come to bed." Fiyero put his hands on Virgil's shoulders, forcing him to stop pacing.

_Okay, so I pace when Fiyero's here. But he understands; he paces, too. He just does his pacing during the day when I'm at school._

"It's three o'clock," Fiyero went on. "You'll fall asleep over your Calculus test unless you at least try to get some sleep."

Virgil turned to Richie, moving to take his lover's hand. He caught Fiyero's fingers and drew him over, too. Taking Richie's limp hand, Virgil murmured, "What did you read him today?"

"Galatians, the first ten chapters of _Lord of the Rings, _and the first act of _The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. _I think he's further along then you are. You should lay off triple-checking your math homework and take a crack at Shakespeare. Oh, and I started _Fahrenheit _451for GED. Richie seemed to like it; he was quiet for it, anyway."

Virgil smiled wanly and lifted Richie's hand to his lips. "Did he move at all?" He kissed Richie's fingers, one at a time, then returned his lover's hand to its place on the blanket.

Fiyero closed his hand over Virgil's where the younger teen still held Richie's cold fingers. "Virgil, that was the first thing you ask me when I pick you up every day. He moved his head back and forth six times around ten, and his feet twitched a little about an hour before I came to get you." Fiyero rubbed the side of his face against Virgil's ear and murmured, "Come to bed. I'll stay awake with him. I promise to wake you if anything changes. You can count on me."

Virgil turned his head and kissed Fiyero softly. "I know." He released Richie's fingers and went to the cot. Sitting down, he sighed and yanked off his shoes. "Did you rest your voice, or did you talk to him all day?"

Fiyero smiled in the dimness as he sat in the chair nearest the bed and took Richie's hand. "Sharon came in for about an hour and talked to him. So did Adam. Your Pops dropped in for a half hour at lunch. Bernadette was allowed to sit by him for twenty minutes, but she was very tired. I went to see her when Sharon was here."

Virgil had curled up on the cot, moving around until he was semi comfortable. "Did she say anything?"

"To me? No. She talked to Richie a little, saying his name mostly. The stroke wasn't severe, but it was enough, Virg…il." Fiyero resisted the strong temptation to call Virgil "Virg" or "V." He didn't dare remind Virgil of anything Richie said, even accidentally. It might seem as if he, Fiyero, was trying to steal something special only Virgil and Richie had shared. "The doctors say she's getting better every day."

Virgil yawned. "And John?"

"He came to see Richie a little after she did. He stayed for an hour. He's exhausted, but he took a few steps with a walker today in Physical Therapy. He told Richie the initials PT don't stand for Physical Therapy, but stand for Pain and Torture. Richie…" Fiyero had to bite his tongue to force himself not to give Virgil false hope. He'd wanted to say Richie had reacted in some way, but that would have been more than stretching the truth. "Richie didn't seem to have any bad dreams today."

Virgil was struggling to stay awake. "…'nd Foley?"

Fiyero wondered if Virgil would rather hear the news when he was more awake, and decided that was probably the case. "Go to sleep, Virgil. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Give Richie…" Virgil succumbed, snoring lightly.

Fiyero stood and kissed Richie on the forehead. "I kissed him good night for you," he told the slumbering teen on the cot. Then he kissed Richie again. "And I kissed him good night for me." Resuming his place in the chair, Fiyero rubbed his thumb over Richie's hand and murmured, "And we did other things today, huh, Richie? I played some music, some of the Christian stuff and some Irish and a little soft rock. Personally, I think you'd thrive on heavy metal, but I don't think your neighbors would appreciate it." He smiled. "Because, no matter what you say, heavy metal has to be played at ear-splitting levels to be properly appreciated. Oh, and I played Adam's CD twice. I like to pretend you liked that, because it looked like you smiled. Can't be sure of that…"

He shifted in the chair, leaning against the arm. "And I told you the story of how we found you and rushed you to the hospital. Don't worry; I'm going to tell it again now so you can know." Rubbing at his eyes, Fiyero laughed feebly.

"Well, we were supposed to wait a full thirty minutes, but Virgil's feeling of unease was so strong J'onn said we could go in ten minutes early. I thought Virgil might kiss the Martian. I would like to see what sort of babies those two would have together. No chance of that, though; Virgil's stuck on you. Not that I blame him.

"So we started in a little early, but that was all right, because when we came in sight of the place where Virgil was going to blast his way in, it was already open because some gas underneath had already gone off and done Virgil's job for him. We were scared to death you'd been hurt, but when we got down there, we saw the gas had only exploded just there. You were in the main room, and you hadn't been hurt by any falling metal or by the fire. The smoke inhalation…. You had been breathing it was for too long, but we had the mask, and you breathed on your own. You didn't become like this until we were out of the underground and we were all trying to talk to you at once. Backpack and Virgil and I couldn't stop talking to you, even when the ambulance came. All three of us were in the ambulance with you, did you know that? We stayed with you right into the hospital and we didn't leave you, not once. We did have to be quiet, though, because Batman said we should let you rest. And, I don't know if you know this, Richie, but Batman can be damned intimidating. So we all shut up. Virgil and Backpack didn't even try to talk to you in your mind because J'onn was right there. Oh, we'd gotten you out of your costume, of course, so nobody knows who you are."

He stretched slightly and for a moment, Richie seemed also to be stretching; his fingers didn't move, but th sheets stirred slightly. Fiyero waited, but when the movement wasn't repeated, he sighed, kissed Richie's hand, and resumed, "That was eleven days ago, or it will be, at ten this morning. By which time, I'll be asleep and Sharon will be in here to talk to you while I sleep and Virgil's at school." He laughed. "We have it all down to a science; we all know our schedules. Someone is awake and sitting with you at all times. So if you can't hear us, it isn't because we aren't talking. Virgil asked me if I've rested my voice at all today, and you and I both know I didn't really, but Virgil doesn't need to know that. I drink a lot of water and tea (never thought I'd be drinking tea to ease my voice; see what I'm willing to do for you, Richie?) and I'm fine. And now I'm just rambling, but I have to keep myself awake and I don't want the T.V. to wake up Virgil. Besides, I hope maybe he can hear my voice, too, and it's helping him. I love you both so much." Fiyero's throat closed and he coughed. "And I'm not going to lose either of you."

Richie turned his head towards Fiyero, then away again. His hands tensed, then relaxed.

"Another nightmare," Fiyero muttered, determined to take care of this one alone Virgil didn't get enough sleep as it was. Briefly, he wished Backpack was there. "Well, can't wish for what I can't have." He took Richie's hand in his and began to try gentling him out of his pain. Richie's eyes were squeezed shut now and he was shaking all over. It was the most involved nightmare Fiyero had witnessed yet, and he didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one. With the despair borne of days of suffering, Fiyero's mind tried to convince him that he was witnessing Richie's final moments, that Richie would die after living through some terrible memory, then he would die.

In which case, Fiyero knew, he should wake Virgil. But he sat, completely still, as Richie loosed a loud moan and struggled against the hand that held him down. His other hand went to the tube that had been stuck down his throat, but Fiyero caught that hand, too.

"Richie… Richie, listen to me…" Fiyero struggled against the manic strength that possessed Richie. "Just hold on for a little longer. Backpack will be here when the Justice League is sure he's healed. Richie, listen to me. Brainiac's dead. It was fried. And I saw… Well, okay, so I'm not sure what I saw, but there was definitely something on the computer screen before it blew. It was you… except it wasn't. It was changed. It was watching you, like a guardian angel or something." He tightened his grip on Richie's hands as the blonde began to thrash. "Please, Richie… You'll hurt yourself. Please listen to me. Brainiac's dead. I swear it's dead. It can't come back. Before he lost power, Backpack saw to it that all the circuits were fried. Brainiac can't come back. It's dead. You're safe. I swear you're safe. Please, Richie… Don't fight me."

The door t the hall opened and Fiyero's head snapped up. He let go of Richie with one hand and kindled a flame, grateful Virgil had found the "cure for the cure" Richie had made. "Stay out. I'm armed." It could be Sean Foley, back for another chat. Or it could be Ebon, who hadn't been able to find any more Bang Baby gas. Or it could be Slipstream. Or-

"Fiyero, it's me." Flash entered the room, but he wasn't the one who had spoken. The robot in his arms looked like hell; he had lost his arms and the one sensor eye was too obviously blind.

Fiyero stood, extinguishing the flame in his hand. He clasped both of Richie's hands again, refusing to let Richie hurt himself. "How are you?"

"Fine. Flash, put me on the bed, please. And then wake Virgil." Backpack couldn't touch Richie, or even move towards him, but that didn't seem to matter. Almost at once, Richie stopped trying to pull away from Fiyero. The silence in the room was broken by Virgil's confused grunt as he was roused. Then Virgil joined the other two at the bed and silence reigned again. Virgil held one of Richie's hands and was touching Backpack with his fingertips. His eyes moved between the blonde and the robot.

Richie moaned and tossed his head like a restless stallion. Then he was quiet again. He bore down on Fiyero's and Virgil's hands and crystalline tears made shining trails down his skin. He seemed unaware of the tears, just as he was unaware that he wasn't really trapped wherever he thought he was. Virgil wiped the tears away and kissed Richie's cheek, mindful of the various tubes and machines.

"Please, Richie…" Virgil's voice was scarcely above a whisper.

Backpack, too, spoke quietly. "He heard you. He hears all of us, even though he might not remember that when he wakes up. He is dreaming of his father; he knows Sean Foley was here yesterday."

Virgil shot Fiyero a glare across the bed. "What did he do?"

Fiyero looked down at Richie's hand clasped in his own. "He came in and read from the Bible. He cried. He told Richie he loved him. Then he went back to his room. He'll be taken to jail tomorrow- this morning- because he's healthy enough."

Richie stirred, but didn't awaken. When he was still again, Fiyero resumed, "I was going to tell you, but you were so tired… You don't sleep enough, Virgil."

Sighing, Virgil allowed that maybe this was true. He smiled at Fiyero, then turned his eyes back to Richie. "What's he dreaming about now, BP- Backpack?"

"You can call me BP if you want to," the robot answered. "I don't mind. Richie is trying to get Jesus and Sean Foley to talk. It seems to work, then it stops working, over and over again. Richie is very frustrated."

Virgil smiled a little. "I'll bet." He trailed his fingers over the robot's back. "Are you all right? Really?"

"I am far from repaired, as you can see, but the important connections work. I can hear Richie and I can speak. That's all I need. May I ask why you haven't tried to listen to him while he dreams?"

Virgil squirmed, withdrawing his hand so he could rub at the back of his neck. "He… fought me when I tried to talk to him. He threw up walls and… called monsters out of the darkness to fight me. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true. There's no other way to explain what he did."

"He is ready to let you in now, I think," Backpack answered. "Perhaps if you can touch his mind, communicate with him-"

"What's keeping him unconscious?" Fiyero asked.

"I know not, though I would guess grief has something to do with it. Gear…" Backpack's voice had dropped to a whisper. "Gear died saving Richie. He saved Richie for you, Virgil, because he loved you and wanted you to be happy. But he also cared for Richie; he told me so." Backpack tried to shift a little closer to Richie and Virgil helped him. "I think Richie knew, even though he didn't hear Gear's confession. Richie just seemed o understand Gear better than any of us could."

"Well, Gear was once Richie, wasn't he?" Fiyero asked. "Of course Richie understood him." He squeezed Richie's hand. "So he's grieving about Gear and hiding from it?"

"Grieving, yes. As for hiding… Richie cannot hide. He feels responsible for Gear's death, I think."

Virgil tightened his hold on Richie's hand. "It's not your fault, Rich. All three of you knew the risk you ran. You did the right thing, and I know you tried to save him because I know you. Don't think it was your fault. You did everything you could. And maybe Gear-"

Richie's head snapped to the right, towards the sound of Virgil's voice.

Backpack shuddered strongly. "Richie does not want to hear about Gear anymore right now. Please connect to him, Virgil. He is ready for you to."

Virgil hesitated; he looked across to Fiyero and seemed to gather strength. Closing his eyes, he reached out. _Richie?_

Waves of anguish and anger met him at once and Virgil almost retreated. He could feel his connection to the outside world fading. Struggling for muscle movement, he pinched himself hard so he could stay grounded in reality. But now he could do more than feel the waves; he could see them, and smell them as well. They reminded him of the hot, putrid breath Carmen Dillo sometimes exhaled. _Richie! Richie, where are you? Stop it! Let me in!_

The waves withdrew slightly and Virgil peered into the distance. He spotted Richie standing on what looked like a small island. Virgil began to push his way closer. He tried to swim, but he wasn't getting anywhere, so he tried walking on the water. That worked better. When he reached the island- no more than a rock- he reached out for Richie. His lover was gazing at him with uncomprehending eyes.

_Richie…_

_I'm not ready to wake up yet, V. Please don't make me. I don't want to see him. I don't want to answer questions. I don't want to see John and Bernadette._

_But Richie, they're fine!_

_One of them is going to die. I can feel it. I knew their house was burning; I knew they were going to be shot. _He turned away, hugging himself. A stiff, cold breeze had sprung up.

Virgil caught Richie's hand. _But, Rich, you thought your father was going to die without being saved. And he's still alive._

Richie had gone completely still. A look of shocked, pleased understanding had crossed his face. His hands had fallen back to his sides. _You're… you're right! _He turned to Virgil and his eyes shone with renewed hope. _I could be wrong again, right?_

Virgil laughed; he couldn't help it. _Right. You could be wrong. _He drew Richie toward him. _So? Will you come out? _He grinned. _Come on; we're already out of the closet. How much harder will coming out of your mind be? BP misses you. Fiyero misses you. Everyone misses you. Please? _He leaned forward and kissed Richie's lips. _Please, Richie? Please?_

Richie laughed. _You miss me so badly? How long have I been asleep, V? A few hours? It can't have been a day. I just- _He turned away and the laughter died on his lips. The ocean was rising around them. The waves parted and a vision walked towards them on the dry strip in the middle. He was taller than Richie, more muscular, with a hard look in his eyes that softened slightly when he saw Virgil.

_Is that-? But he's…_

_Dead? _Richie nodded and his hand in Virgil's was suddenly slick with sweat. _But this is what Gear looked like before he died. Isn't he… _Richie shook his head. _Beautiful? Can I say that about him without sounding conceited?_

_Definitely. _Virgil put his arm around Richie's shoulders. _Is this a memory?_

_More or less. _Richie relaxed against Virgil. _I just wanted you to see him, to understand. You were so important to him. For a long time, you were all he ever thought about. Your safety, your happiness, took precedence over his needs, his own life. _Richie shook his head, but he was smiling. _How can I do anything but understand? There were times when I wanted to be jealous, but I couldn't. He loved you unconditionally._

A voice boomed out over the water and the remembered Gear vanished as the waves crashed over him. Even though he knew Gear was already dead, Virgil shivered to see the water wash in, as if Gear's life was its food. But he couldn't dwell on that. The voice echoed again and Richie cringed, putting his hands over his ears. "Please don't let him take me… Please, V, he's coming! He's coming! Don't let him take me away! He hasn't been saved; he wants me to come with him and learn about hatred again! Please, Virg!" Richie clung to Virgil and sobbed. "Don't let him take me!"

Virgil felt a tug in the back of his mind; he realized at once that he was being dragged back to reality. _But Richie's voice should have told me that. He's really talking._

Virgil came awake with a start. He threw up an electric shield instinctively, and felt something hit it.

Then Fiyero was leaping over the bed and bearing Sean Foley to the floor. Fiyero was snarling, and his eyes were literally burning, but he hadn't kindled any flames in his hands. "You're not touching either of them, you son of a bitch," he snarled into Sean Foley's stunned face.

Richie moved on the bed; Virgil glanced down at him, and saw the pained blue orbs gazing back at him. "Don't try to talk. There's a tube in your throat. We'll get someone to come take it out. Don't worry, Rich; everything's okay now."

Sean Foley didn't struggle, didn't try to speak, but the look in his eyes was pure hatred.

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins/Static Shock

Dear DiaryJanuary 24, 2003

Ha! Richie's been declared a medical miracle by the doctors, first because they couldn't figure out what was wrong with him, then because he was out of the hospital the day after he woke up. True, he couldn't go to school for another three days, but he recovered remarkably quickly for being unconscious eleven days.

And what did Richie do during those three days? Here's a short list. He wrote a eulogy for Gear, needing to let the ghost go. Then he finished two of his "everyday inventions:" those that are made for normal citizens to use. My pops took him to the patent office. Why is this so important? Richie wants to pay for his hospital stay and for Bernadette and John's continued care, and the little bit of money granted to Richie by the courts isn't enough. Wait, though; there's more. Richie made the cake for my birthday party, which was a week later than usual because I was in the hospital with Richie on my birthday. I became seventeen and didn't even think about it.

I could go on, but I'd rather talk about Richie's first day back. Frieda and Daisy jumped us in the hall and almost smothered Richie with hugs and kisses and nearly deafened him with screams of joy when they first saw him. They followed us around all day, making sure Richie had everything he could possibly want. Admittedly, Richie was a little tired by the end of the day, but he made it all right. He's been loaded down with tons of homework, but I'll help him with it. So will Fiyero, who's progressing quickly through the GED program. And so will Backpack, who has taken up permanent residence in our house, now that he has no one to hide from. We had to tell Adam who we are so Sharon wouldn't have to keep the secret, but that's where we've drawn the line. Too many people know already.

Richie isn't ready to be in costume every night. He's dedicating himself, between homework and visits to the hospital, to upgrading his inventions and changing his costume. I told him once, only jokingly, that I thought he could do better in the fashion department. He'd laughingly agreed, but hadn't done anything about it. But before I tell you what it looks like, I need to say this: I'm still nervous about having Richie with me when I patrol. No amount of kidding myself will ever change that. And Richie is the first to admit that Gear took certain abilities with him when he died. Hence, the upgrades to the inventions and the more protective costume. But I understand now that Richie needs to fight crime. So be it. I'll stay at his side and we'll get through everything together.

If you'll excuse me, I think Richie just came upstairs from the basement, where he and Backpack have been working on Fiyero's mental link so he can join the rest of us. I needt o go tell Richie I love him.

Peace.

Epilogue

In the early hours before dawn, Richie considered the cake he had baked for the following day. Virgil and Fiyero had argued about whether the cake for his twenty-seventh birthday should be chocolate or carrot. Richie had settled the argument by making a chocolate-carrot cake, two layers, one of each, and a third that was the two combined. _Half of it would have gone to friends, _Richie thought, smiling at his extravagance._ But now I may as well freeze it for another day._

Locking the cake away in an enormous freezer bag, Richie set it in the deep freezer Sharon had bought them for their first anniversary. _She said she wanted to make sure we always had plenty to eat instead of microwaving quick meals. But I think she really just wanted a place where I could store my cakes. _Richie shook his head as he gazed at the seven cakes he'd made for various occasions: John and Bernadette's thirteenth anniversary (six days away), little Anansi's birthday party (eight days away) and the others for the bake sale the Center was putting on. _Well, maybe I'll just include the birthday cake with the others. It isn't as if I've written anything on it yet. That was supposed to happen this morning._

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Richie sighed. _Two hours, BP?_

_Yes, Richie._

Richie closed the freezer. _Then I'd better wake up V and Fiyero._ As he headed for the stairs, he asked, _So are you ready to have a baby toddling around the house, getting into things, putting anything and everything in its mouth?_

_That will not happen for a few months, _Backpack answered, sounding a little nervous. _There is still time to check the baby-proofing measures you've installed._

Richie was climbing the stairs. _Tell the truth, BP; how many times have you checked them already?_

_Only… Only thirty-nine times. I could still be missing something. After all, I've never been a godparent before, and you've never been a father._

Richie laughed. _It's not rocket science, BP. It's-_

_No, it's much harder than rocket science because nothing stays the same! The baby can be fine one moment and distressed the next, with no apparent change in its condition!_

Richie paused at the top of the stairs. _You're really scared about this, aren't you?_

A pause, then, _Yes. I cannot help it, Richie. I have tried to be supportive, but I can't help being nervous._

_What specifically are you afraid of?_

Backpack's mind filled with a thousand images of injury, not just to a baby, but to a toddler, a school-age little one, a preteen, a teenager. _It's a lifetime commitment, Richie. I never thought I would be protecting anyone besides you. But… but I want to help with the baby. And not just because it's a part of you._

Richie wanted to hug Backpack against him. Failing that (how could you hug someone who was tens of thousands of miles away?) he wrapped his mind around Backpack's worries. _You're going to be a wonderful godparent, BP. You won't have to do any of this on your own, and… _He smiled. _I'll be here. _It sounded conceited to Richie, but he felt Backpack ease in his mind.

_I know, Richie. Thank you._

_I love you. _Richie pushed open the bedroom door and flicked on the small light he'd rigged to cast a soft glow over the room, nothing bright enough to wake whoever was sleeping. Virgil and Fiyero were sprawled out on the bed, taking up all available space. It never failed to amuse Richie that as soon as he got out of bed in the morning, both his lovers tried to move into the warm place he'd just left. _And they do it subconsciously. That's what makes it so funny._

Grinning, Richie padded across the room and crouched by the side of the bed, kissing Virgil's hand that dangled over the side of the bed. Virgil didn't react, so Richie tugged at the hand gently.

_You could say, "Static, you're needed." That would get him up._

Richie snickered. _You're evil, BP._

_Only when it comes to waking up yon slumbering logs._

Richie laughed freely, then stood. He climbed over Virgil on the bed and set to shaking both of his lovers. "Wake up, you two. The baby's due. Wake up."

Virgil moaned and rolled over, still fast asleep. Fiyero caught Richie's hand and tried to drag him into bed. Richie slapped the red head's groping hand away and whispered, "I have two water Zap Caps here with your names on them."

Virgil sat up straight and Fiyero rolled away so fast he would have hit his head on the nightstand if Richie hadn't caught him.

Backpack's laughter rang inside Richie's head. _Apparently I am not the only evil one._

_Well, maybe not, _Richie answered, _but I'd rather they be mad at me than you. _He watched Virgil struggling to open his eyes. Fiyero was a little more successful; he'd managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed and sit up.

"Whazzit?" Virgil asked.

"Richie, it's- DAMN! three o'clock in the morning! This isn't funny!" Fiyero caught Richie's hand in his and turned to stare at him. "Are you okay?" Then he registered that Richie was fully dressed. "What's going on?"

"The baby's coming. The J League's sending the ship. We have to get ready." Richie sat back on his heels, grinning, as Virgil and Fiyero leapt at once to action, running around, taking showers, getting dressed, and generally getting in each others' way. Then, when they were both finally ready, it was, "Come on, Rich; we'll be late!" and "Where are we meeting the ship?" and "How can you be so calm?"

Richie rose gracefully from the bed. Treating his lovers like wound-up children, he took their hands in his and guided them downstairs. "We'll meet them in the park."

oOo

Closing his eyes, Richie felt for the connection between his mind and the small life only inches away. It was always there, but Richie, after nine months of being "pregnant," was hardly conscious of it. Soothing the unborn child who floated in the tank, Richie said, "We're ready." His hand went to the valve that would drain the fluid away slowly and he beckoned, still without looking, for the doctor the J League had hired to get ready to lift the baby out and cut the umbilical cord.

Off to the right, Virgil and Fiyero were holding hands and trying not to fidget too much. Backpack was in hardly in less of a state of nervousness.

The doctor stepped forward as the fluid was drained away; she cut the umbilical cord with a skilled hand and lifted the baby out. Spanking the baby, she elicited the little one's first cry. Taking the howling babe to the basin nearby, she washed off the fluid that glistened on the pink skin, then snatched a blanket.

A moment later, the doctor laid the slowly-quieting child in Richie's arms. "Congratulations. He's a boy."

_As if we couldn't see that through the tank, _Backpack sent.

Richie grinned, then kissed his son. Glancing up, he said, "You can come here now." The three hadn't moved, and so Richie added, "It's all right. Come see him before he falls asleep." Taking a step forward, he said, "He has your eyes, V."

The three parents approached nervously and Richie held the baby out to them. Backpack had crawled up onto a nearby table so he could see better. The baby blinked benignly at them, then his eyes drifted closed.

"He'll be awake soon and hungry," Richie said. "So? Have you two decided which name you're going to choose?"

"Robert Ovid still sounds good to me," Fiyero said.

Virgil shook his head. "John Fiyero Richard."

Rocking their son gently, Richie said, "Can't you compromise?" Then he sighed. "No; I know you've already tried. Okay… We have to decide something, so I had at thought." He laughed at the two pairs of eyes that looked at him suspiciously. "I think we should name him Bartholomew Edward Jones the third." He relished their horrified expressions for a moment, then said, "No, really; let's call him Ovid John. That way, if he doesn't like his first name, he can ask to be called by his middle name."

"Practical to the last," Virgil said, shaking his head. He touched Richie's cheek with the tips of his fingers. "It's fine with me."

Fiyero nodded. "Done."

oOo

Richie kissed Ovid as his son settled in for sleep. Glancing across the room, Richie watched Virgil and Fiyero cleaning up the mess from the party that had happened despite Richie's protests that he had the only gift he wanted. _Well, I guess they showed me. _Richie's eyes fell on the book it had taken Fiyero a year and a month to write. _And this one's quite a bit longer than the last one. _He kissed Ovid again. _I'll have a good story to read to you, precious one. _Then, thinking of all the violence and anguish in the story, _Maybe I'll wait and start you out on something simpler. _His characteristic, face-lighting grin shone out for a moment. _Like _Lord of the Rings. _After that, you'll be ready for _The First Kiss _and _The Miracle of Three.

Laughing quietly to himself, Richie decided he'd better ask Sharon what sort of books she'd read to her children.

O--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------O

**THE END**

**Author's Notes:** Thank you to everyone who has kept with the story through all the twists and turns. I hope you enjoyed the ride. I'll be writing more in the _Static Shock_ fandom, but for now I need to work on my neglected _Star Wars_ and _Lord of the Rings_ stories. Thank you to my dedicated reviewers, and also to those of you who didn't review, but kept going, reading each new chapter that came. I'm especially curious about what you thought of the story as a whole. Oh, and thank you to whoever warned me about typos. That was quite effective. I hope this chapter had fewer. I didn't trust to Spell Check. Oh, and my apologies that this took so long. I hate ending things, so I had to rework the ending four times.

And, just for those of you curious to see how far we've come:

**Telling Tales**

Book I

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (1)Pg. 2

With Brainiac: Forward: The Story Behind the StoryPg. 2

Chapter OnePg. 4

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (2)Pg. 7

Chapter TwoPg. 10

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (3)Pg. 16

Chapter Three: First Nightmare: KluxPg. 18

Part One: On the Space StationPg. 18

Part Two: GraffitiPg. 24

Part Three: The Hospital, and the DiscoveryPg. 39

Interlude: Back with Brainiac (1)Pg. 53

Chapter Four: Second Nightmare: Marriage is a BlessingPg. 54

Part One: HomePg. 54

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (4)Pg. 60

Part Two: A Day in the Life of a SuperheroPg. 69

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (5)Pg. 79

Part Three: Marital BlissPg. 86

Interlude: Back with Brainiac (2)Pg. 97

A Short ConversationPg. 99

Book II

Chapter One: MeetingsPg. 99

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (6)Pg. 113

Chapter Two: In the Middle of the NightPg. 115

Chapter Three: Hospital (Again) and Virgil Talks Things OutPg. 132

Chapter Four: Worried About RichiePg. 141

Chapter Five: Imprisonment and Questions AnsweredPg. 158

Epilogue

Part One: Back with Brainiac (aka Stealing Virgil's Diary)Pg. 183

Part Two: SmilesPg. 184

Part Three: From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (7)Pg. 193

**The Miracle of Three**

Prologue

You Deserve to Know…Pg. 1

Book I

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (1)Pg. 21

Chapter One: Breaking and MendingPg. 26

Chapter Two: The Trial, Part OnePg. 44

Chapter Three: Around Sunset and Gear Runs InterferencePg. 68

aka The Trial, Part, Two

Chapter Four: PlottingPg. 92

Chapter Five: On the Eve of BattlePg. 110

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (2)Pg. 129

Book II

Chapter One: AssaultPg. 133

Chapter Two: DiscoveryPg. 153

Chapter Three: HomePg. 174

Book III

Backpack's Personal Log (1)Pg. 197

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (3)Pg. 198

A short ConversationPg. 201

Backpack's Personal Log (2)Pg. 201

Backpack's Personal Log (3)Pg. 202

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (4)Pg. 203

Chapter One: Happy Birthday, RichiePg. 206

Chapter Two: Stand Strong Against the NightPg. 228

Backpack's Personal Log (4)Pg. 247

Backpack's Personal Log (5)Pg. 247

Backpack's Personal Log (6)Pg. 248

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (5)Pg. 249

Chapter Three: On-line ChatPg. 249

Backpack's Personal Log (7)Pg. 267

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (6)Pg. 268

Chapter Four: SeptemberPg. 275

Chapter Five: October: Before the IslandPg. 296

Chapter Six: October: On Alva's IslandPg. 316

Backpack's Personal Log (8)Pg. 338

Chapter Seven: October: Right after Alva's IslandPg. 339

Book IV

Chapter One: Christmas, 2003: Apart Again Pg. 360

Chapter Two: Christmas, 2003: Brainiac's Way BackPg. 386

Chapter Three: Christmas, 2003: Celebrate!Pg. 408

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (7)Pg. 435

Backpack's Personal Log (9)Pg. 437

Chapter Four: Power Outage Pg. 439

Chapter Five: Final Days, Part OnePg. 461

Chapter Six: Final Days, Part TwoPg. 481

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (8)Pg. 502

Book IV

Ovid JohnPg. 503

Admittedly, I didn't know it would go this far.


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